Road to nowhere
by SDoradus
Summary: Arc 4 of 8: Development of weapon systems, human and otherwise. An ME Fic written a year before the "Mass Effect: Andromeda" trailer, the last arc of "Gone with the Sun" has survivors heading for Andromeda.
1. Genesis Revelations

**Road to nowhere** , Arc 4 of "Gone with the Sun" - follows Arc 3, "Grave to cradle"

Chapter 35 **Genesis Revelations  
**

* * *

 _Dura_ _p_ _ater_

They left the man with his mother for a few minutes. The doctors had shoo'd out Lawson and Chambers – _"He's still groggy, come back in ten."_

Miranda was a little put out. What were they going to give him, adrenaline? Kelly thought it wiser not to ask.

"I suppose they had to chase us off." Miranda had a catch in her voice. Kelly turned, and was about to say something, but stopped:

"Whoa, wait up –", reached out, wiped the corner of Miranda's left eye; the tissue was moist. Then Miranda returned the favor, whispering: _"_ _Can't see Hackett looking like this."_

" _We're going to see Hackett?"_

Miranda sighed. _"Betcha he's in the corridor."_

Oh dear. The boss? Right now?

" _Damn it._ _He's not a cybernetic superman anymore."_

Miranda had echoed Kelly's exact thoughts; introducing the world slowly to Shepard seemed like a better plan. But the devil was driving. _"_ _Anything can happen in the next half an hour. The Admiralty_ _will_ _want to know what went down."_

" _His mother could ask!"_

" _Hannah will have other things to debrief."_ Kelly had seen that coming. Miranda never had a mother; she hardly knew her dad. Odd, how Miranda had blind spots. But then, so many people did. You just had to make allowances and keep antennae fluttering.

Outside the door, no Hackett. Miranda tugged at Kelly's elbow. _"C_ _ommissary."_ Indeed, the Admiral of the Fleet was taking coffee from the service VI. The place was deserted; suddenly Kelly realized there would be guards at a perimeter.

"Ladies, please take a seat, I won't keep you long." Miranda squeezed her elbow briefly. _Told you_.

"Admiral, the patient is awake and, so far, appears as well as might be expected."

Hackett simply nodded. He did not ask what Shepard had to say about any particular matter.

"That's a relief. Can I ask two things. In your professional opinion… Ms Lawson, first, will he recover a normal level of fitness?"

"Admiral, I'm not a qualified doctor."

"Ms Lawson, give Liara some credit. You've had years of medical, neurological, and biophysical training in various schools around the Galaxy. I've had the benefit of input from Chakwas and Michel about you. Your opinion, please."

"He will recover preliminary fitness, given a decent exercise regime, in three to eight months, depending on the progress of bone stimulation and reinforcement."

"So at that time he will be up to N7 standards?"

"Yes, Admiral, but if you want Alliance or Cerberus commando implants, that will take longer. The visual taps are in place for a grey box, but the spinal links have not so far made contact. I don't expect them to for another two months. Even then, the implant tech isn't available on Earth any more."

"Perhaps the Citadel? We also have Jana's cooperation, now."

"That's a possibility… actually, could I have her on _Overlord_? I've only got Zabaleta."

"I don't see why not, but she hasn't been formally pardoned. The council would choke on it at this point. She's in Limbo."

Kelly had heard of Limbo. It was on the moon somewhere. She'd thought she'd wind up there. Mikhailovich had described it as a _sharashka_.

"That doesn't matter, sir. I've raided your brig for a third of my crew. Brooks can stew for a while longer, by the way, I want Chambers on her case first. I think I _know_ what happened with Jana, and I'll take the risk. If she turns out well…"

"Then we'll see."

"That's the best I could ask for. The only persons _outside_ Cerberus who I _know_ could help with actually setting implants to the taps were on Sur'kesh. I can't call on Mordin any more."

"Fair enough. I don't actually want him back in the saddle, you realize. He's done enough. It'll be good to have his input at the Nest, but only a dozen people in the fleet know he's here, and they're all on this ship, including Coats. John wouldn't be able to help Mikhailovich significantly."

Miranda's exhalation of relief was quite audible. Now Kelly felt Hackett's full attention on _her_.

"So, missy. Does he know yet?"

* * *

 _Christmas presents_

Propped up it was possible to see he still had the full complement of arms and legs. Proprioception and a feeling of touch weren't always reliable indicators of that.

He'd experimented a little, tilting his head, bringing his hands together, conscious of three pairs of softly focused, brightly colored eyes also evaluating his performance. He'd had five perfunctory welcome-back kisses. No-one seemed able to trust themselves to speak. He himself could barely croak names to start, but a little water had helped.

Hackett had "passed by." Uh huh. There were more questions than there was time to ask, never mind get answers, but apparently they'd 'won' for a given value of victory. Well, the catalyst had warned him about tech. The worst bit was the geth… and EDI, because that was more personal, though she was only one person.

By now Karin Chakwas had left, bearing confidential reports of resurrection (said his mom) to "Jeff." Moreau was here? Where _was_ here? And apparently Ash was in charge of _Normandy_ now. He should feel outraged, but that took too much energy. They'd removed the last of the bandages and lines. All he had on was some loose papery overtunic, open at the back. It had been a bit chilly. Chakwas had given him something with water and pulled up blankets. He felt fine now.

Apparently Kelly really _was_ a nurse, though they could have found a better-fitting uniform. She had taken a sterile tray to a cleaning bench in the adjacent theater, but Michel took it from her and whispered something in her ear. She came and sat in the chair to his left, took his hand, and checked his pulse. Didn't let go of his hand.

Miranda was at the foot of the bed, now, telling tales. She and Garrus had newer versions of _Normandy_. She'd called hers _Overlord_. He'd laughed so hard it hurt, Chloe Michel (clearing away equipment tables) had looked daggers, but had no support. His mom had got the joke. "Nurse" had intuited that there _was_ a joke.

"Well… maybe I haven't died and gone to heaven. But this is a pretty good substitute."

Hannah didn't openly react to that, but took his other hand. In the other room, Michel quietly finished policing the sterile trays and closed an autoclave.

His mother was on a high stool to his right. "Liara doesn't know it yet, but she's getting a present too. Tevos has said the asari republics will pay an extraordinary sum for just one frigate."

"What brought _that_ on?"

"Sitting in the co-pilot's seat when Joker's in a hurry. Let's just say Moreau's been posted here and we all had one last wild ride."

"He cheated," said Miranda, making a _moue._ "He's been tuning a VI with some of EDI's hardware. I did my best but he just had finer control of balancing mass effect and thrusters around the difficult gates. He pipped me at the last relay. I had to go around again. Still beat Vakarian, though."

"Can it talk? The VI, I mean."

"Yes, but it… has no soul. It's not the same. I have some ideas about that."

No-one had said much about Reapers, even Hackett. This was probably good. They were all apparently happy to have him there, though surely not as happy as he was to have them, but there didn't appear to be any spinal cybernetics active at all, never mind working implants. Just as well… unless there was something to that last nightmare. Shepard cleared his throat.

"Miranda. I owe you. Again." Lawson shook her head, but she was smiling. "I can't repay, but if there's something I can do…" She still seemed to have some trouble speaking.

"Okay. Nurse…" – he peered at the name badge; "… _oops_. Mom, this–"

"Yes, I know."

"Look, I might not be in my right mind. There was the old nightmare, or something like it, when I came to… the boy… it's a long story, I'll tell you later, but the upshot is the catalyst said it's _still here_."

Kelly gave him an old-fashioned look. "John. You're you. I'd know, otherwise." Hannah nodded. _H_ _m_ _m_.

Miranda did give it some consideration. "It's probably just a coma nightmare, Shepard. Quite common, exiting induced comas." Chloe, leaning against the door, agreed. Hannah had no interest in the possibility of psychosis. She fastened on the boy.

"The Catalyst. It's a person? You spoke to it? Is it on the side of the Reapers?"

Shepard looked thoughtful. "No. It had its own agenda. The Reapers were only a means to that end."

"It didn't care about who died, or how, or how many?"

"Hard to say. It said the Crucible changed things, including itself. It really wanted to live, I think. There was only one outcome that would do that, but I wasn't having any. It did tell me what had to be done to kill the Reapers. I'd already worked it out, but…"

"Never mind, John. My gut says we won. If there _are_ any alive where this little fleet is going, we'll deal with it. Look, we're getting into difficult territory. We'll think about this again after dinner. _"_

" _I_ quite agree," said Dr Michel in a no-nonsense voice. "Everybody out except… Kelly. Shepard, you need rest. Nurse will stay to monitor… things."

Shepard wasn't the world's best people person, but he could tell he was in trouble when the bloody women exchanged looks.

 _Pia mater_

"So… nurse, huh?" He accepted a plastic cup to go with pills.

"Er… yes. I sat my RN exams two weeks ago. Chakwas says she'll pay my tuition for med school, but…"

"You don't want to go."

"I don't think I'm smart enough."

Shepard nearly spat out his meds. When he had his diaphragm under control again, he looked up. She actually looked _cross_.

"Sweet heart… come here."

She sat on the high stool, with a mutinous expression on her extraordinarily beautiful face. It was sexy as hell.

"Even I can tell… look, don't mind me. Pay attention to Chakwas. What does Chloe say?"

"She says I'd be wasted as an ordinary doctor. Don't know what _that's_ all about."

"I think I get her drift. Look, you should do it anyway. You don't have to be an _ordinary_ doctor."

Kelly sighed. "That's all a bit academic, anyway."

"Why?"

Shepard watched in fascination as some sort of internal struggle came to a decision. Kelly slowly stepped off the high stool, and removed her cloak. Then her uniform tunic. And her shoes. blouse… it gradually dawned on Shepard that this was not a prelude to the normal sort of dance. He reached, took her hand, and pulled her to his side. Kissed her expanded belly.

"Still hot, as ever."

"Oh, you."

"Is it a boy, or a girl?"

"I've been careful not to ask."

He kissed her again, and let go her hand. She picked up her clothes, paused, put them down again. Took off her bra, and her panties, standing beside his bed, almost nude.

"What _are_ you doing?"

"What Chloe said. Monitoring things."

She got on the bed and snuggled in beside him.

"You forgot the cap."

"I'm kinky. And on duty."

* * *

– __Next chapter will be #__ _ _36__ _ _, "__ _ _The bartered__ _ _…"__ _ _–__

* * *

Thursday, July 23, 2015


	2. The Bartered

Road to nowhere, Arc 4 of "Gone with the Sun"

Chapter 36 **The Bartered  
**

* * *

 _Hard_ _Bargains_

Sparatus and Victus followed Garrus and Riley through the dock access to an honor guard. Once formally on board, Sparatus' first priority was to find the asari councilor, but _Overlord_ was docked on the far side of _Orizaba_ and the groups didn't meet till 1700 military time, nearly two hours after arrival, for a light repast where dextro- and laevo- snacks were served.

Hackett looked unusually relaxed. Tevos had described her journey in breathless detail, then approached Victus regarding a _Normandy_ -class frigate for the council, cost no object. This could have been a problem; the dock had only produced six, split between the human and turian military. Four were already commissioned. The dock's schedule didn't allow for further builds till late next year.

Sparatus was definite that the unassigned turian vessel would be needed for assisting allies such as Wrex and the Volus – finding potential temporary colonies nearby, for example. For the next couple of centuries or however long it took to properly knit the galaxy back together. Tevos looked very disappointed. Vakarian went with Riley to Hackett and had a private word.

The result was fascinating; Hackett conferred with his senior staff (Coats, Shepard senior, Mikhailovich) and let it be known that since they had _Normandy_ it would not be unacceptable for the last human frigate to be reassigned to the asari military. Vakarian and Victus advised that heavy hints about money and crew had been dropped.

After some negotiation, it was determined that the asari would defray the costs of _two_ frigates to be built at the end of the next accounting cycle. Since one human ship had gone to an independent mercenary group, the asari captain should be civilian, which was actually appropriate for a Councilor's ship. It was very strongly suggested that the captain should be Dr Liara T'Soni, and the executive officer should be asari military; Hackett suggested Coreen Lemaes, in whom he had confidence.

These conditions were accepted, and made Councilor Tevos very happy. The only difficulty was that Dr T'Soni could not be immediately notified; she was in conference. Admiral Shepard undertook to let her know.

* * *

 _Hard Lessons_

Sparatus, Victus, and Vakarian met in a secure bubble around _Peacemaker's_ conference room.

"Don't blame yourself for letting _Overlord_ and _Normandy_ beat us here, Vakarian."

"It's hard, sir."

"You didn't do a trial run the way _Overlord_ did – there was too much fitting out of the blitz pod to finish – and the _Normandy_ pilot has been this way many times."

"But I should have anticipated it wouldn't be plain sailing."

Victus shook his head. Only Vakarian had been in the co-pilot's seat during transit, but Victus and Sparatus had a memorable view from stations set up in the lounge.

"You did well. Why is the geometry of the relays so difficult?"

"That's restricted. Human-classified, but not at high-level. I can tell _you_ , but it should not leave this bubble. The reason is something I want to chase up, though."

"Yes?"

"They're going to have strong encryption and IFF. Also there's an out-of-band command and control channel. The IFF is to be permissive until hostilities begin. The clear implication is, there's potential for using reconfigurable relays as a trap for pursuing Reaper forces."

"Ah. Any other little surprises up their sleeves?"

Vakarian hesitated: "Riley's been told to ensure we have our IFF updated by the end of this watch. But there's more. I can feel they're keeping _something_ back. It seems to be on a need-to-know basis, T'Soni just said _later_. In twenty minutes, at the end of the current watch, there's a ways-and-means conference chaired by Coats."

That was the current captain of this ship, _Orizaba_.

"But that's probably just concerned with fleet movement details, they've finished with offshoots from N-5 and are looking to advance the main stem again. Few stars exist this far out of the galactic plane. But they've got frigates and cruisers scouting out rogue gas giants with magnetic fields so the FTL cores can be discharged."

"Understood." This matched Sparatus' discussions with asari and salarian staff.

"Both Hackett and Admiral Shepard are heading back to Sol system in…" – Victus checked his omni-tool – "two and a half hours, at the end of the next watch period. Hackett's moving on to Arcturus after that."

"Are we returning to Earth also?"

"It would be advisable, Councilor, though there's time if you or Vakarian have people you need to see. Coats for example is on the skeleton crew this week."

Vakarian agreed. " _Peacemaker_ really should be undocked not long after _Normandy_."

"What are your immediate plans, Vakarian?"

"I could check on Wrex next. The Krogan cold-sleep ships are a twelfth of the way to Tuchanka. But he won't like being woken up. In my opinion, and the Primarch concurs, after we've ferried you back it's time for _Peacemaker_ to join T'Soni. When she's not being a taxi for Tevos, she's on some classified project the humans needed asari help with. Maybe she'll eventually spill the beans."

"The Shadow Broker? Not likely."

"As you say, Primarch. But Liara's asked for some company. She's never been at the controls of any spacecraft bigger than a shuttle before, with the sole exception of some sort of research ship around Hagalaz – and I'm told she only piloted that one to send it at ramming speed into a Cerberus cruiser. Lemaes is as much a novice pilot, and there's a doctrine evolving that exploration frigates should proceed in pairs."

"One cloaked, one scanning, right."

"When we're done with asari projects, we'll visit here again at the fleet's next stop."

"Where's that?" asked Sparatus.

" _Orizaba_ and the rest of the fleet will be proceeding to the N-6 waypoint, which means in a little over eight hours nearly all the crew will be in cold sleep, for some time."

Garrus nodded. "Humans don't live any longer than we do. The next leg of the track will take over two months by FTL."

* * *

 _Soft_ _Bargains_

An antenna quivered.

 _Seventeen_ _fifty_ _. Time to wake him properly, before_ I _fall asleep_ _too_ _. Disengage_ here _from_ there _… right_.

"We are about to have a domestic."

"Wha?" _Very groggy John. No implants_.

"Do bear in mind, your bones aren't as solid as they could be. Pain in your tendons will help tell you when you're at risk."

"Wait, what?" _Wow, that was fast waking._ _Soldier stuff?_

Kelly slid off the bed and began dressing. "We have about ten minutes before the shift change and we can expect visitors. Doctors, at least, visitors, probably." _Panties, good._ _Stockings, there they are_.

"Watch change. It's not a shift, it's a watch. I guess it wouldn't do to find nurse in bed with patient." _That's the bra done. Lower tunic, blouse_.

This got him a smooch on the cheek. "Indeed not. It would amuse your mother, I think, but Chloe would dine out on the story for years." _Upper tunic, hurry now. Hat fell off, oops_. _Wait for it_.

"How about _wife_ in bed with patient?"

 _Bingo._ Kelly looked around, watching John's reactions from the corner of her eye. She couldn't see a suitable niche, cupboard office, or desk for being inconspicuous behind.

"Not marrying you." _Cloak._

!

"Still not quite the done thing, anyway." _Non-s_ _terile feet. Going to have to tell the room's VI to lightly disinfect._

 _!?_

"Told you we'd have a domestic." _Oh dear, John looks very sad_. She took one rapid step towards him, big smooch. Finger on lips. "It's not you, not really."

This was a very compact trauma centre. Everything folded into neat cupboards. Well, she'd just have to wing it. _You never know what that bad lot Michel will do. I predict Liara. Probably not Garrus, hope not, could be awkward_.

John wasn't so sad, now. _Good. More… thoughtful. Uh oh_.

"What do I have to do? Stop being a soldier?"

He'd got to the bottom of that _awfully_ fast.

"Well, yes… but no. Because then you wouldn't be you. And it would not end well."

Petulant expression. _Well that's better than those wounded eyes_.

"I can't be a soldier, and I can't not be a soldier." He was looking a little grim. "But women live longer than men anyway, and I'm older than you to begin with. Statistically, you'd be a widow one day even if I wasn't a soldier."

"Please. We'd be different people. Right now, the loss would kill me. Better not to have you in the first place. This was never meant to happen, anyway."

"Says who? Suppose I put down all the Reapers?"

"Doesn't matter. And I refuse to be the reason for Reapercide. It's still a form of genocide. And there would always be some new threat."

Now it was his turn for a sigh. "I'm not going to win this, am I?"

"Not at this time. You'll find someone… not put off by the risks and perils."

"But we'll be different people one day."

"John, you haven't been listening, and we're running out of time. I have to go back to Earth soon. I want you to look out for Miranda."

"Miranda!?"

"Yes. She's becoming a little… antisocial. Be careful of her please. She's important to you, and you're important to her."

"Are you suggesting what I think you are?"

"Just make sure she has something to live for. She's not taking risks exactly. But I don't think she cares, any more. "

There was a very diffident knock at the door, which meant someone was being diplomatic. The access panel showed green. _That silly Chloe set me up_.

Kelly shook her head, sniffling. _Need tissues_. "John, I know I can't have you. If I try, you won't come home one day. Although, actually…"

She approached the bed and crouched so her face was level with his; Shepard noted a teardrop.

"… _you_ can always have _me_. Anytime at all. Okay?"

John was nodding slowly, but in understanding, not agreement.

"Where's home?"

* * *

– __Next chapter will be #__ _ _3__ _ _7__ _ _, "__ _ _Second Dog Watch__ _ _…"__ _ _–__

* * *

Thursday, July 23, 2015


	3. Second Dog Watch

Road to nowhere, Arc 4 of "Gone with the Sun"

Chapter 37 **Second Dog Watch**

* * *

 _Baker's dozen_

Almost the first thing Liara noticed was that Shepard's face was set and pensive at first.

Some of that was surely pain. Grafts and bones were still knitting. Chakwas and Michel had been careful to emphasize that he would be delicate for weeks, he would not be properly fit for duty for months, and no-one had a plan for implants.

But he was still strong enough for a quick embrace, growing more animated as the trauma recovery room filled (standing room only for a dozen, not counting the patient).

Coats shook hands. They spoke of the last moments with the catalyst and crucible. She and Hannah had picked up on the boy hallucination. They did extract a few extra minutes after Dr Michel clucked about tired patient and threatened to close the proceedings, the excuse being that Liara had promised Javik she'd relay the details ASAP.

At the very end she snatched a private second as all around were being bundled out, bent over, getting his undivided attention, and whispered: _"Shepard. When you're feeling well, come and see me. We'll_ _figure out_ _the boy."_

Then she turned away, and noticed in the far corner the nurse, fending off gentle probing from Williams, trying to be inconspicuous. Turned back again. " _And_ _you will tell me_ _why, exactly, Kelly is_ _so_ _miserable."_

 _Bellerophon_

Clearly Vakarian was not in a good mood. There was multitasking on top of the usual stress of departure. Orders were being _snapped_ , mostly regarding accommodation changes, while he was fencing with a stream of loading orders too.

"Sir? Can I help?"

"Ah. Bellerophon, just the man, handle these bunking issues would you? Apparently there's supercargo besides the Primarch…"

It turned out that on the return leg Sparatus would be travelling with _Normandy_ , swapping with Tevos. There was also a turian female diplomat known to Vakarian.

"Those two might be comfortable in the XO's office, that means _I'm_ not just turfed from my cabin in the loft, but even the comfortable XO berth. Also it complicates the bloody food stores. There are four more _laevo_ personnel, organize something suitable for, say, five days from the _Orizaba_ purser."

"Sir. I'll get on to the supplies. That's unfortunate about the berth."

Actually Bellerophon felt it was good for an illustrious general to recall how the _hoi polloi_ live.

"So you will be with us in the crew quarters, sir?"

"Regrettably not, Bellerophon. I will set up a crash webbing bunk in the gunnery, next to the Thanix cannon. Just like old times, really."

So much for dreams of seeing a general bunking with the ensigns. A crash webbing bunk in that space would be a harsh, cramped existence. That was old times? Incredible.

"About those other _laevo_ passengers. Since Councilor Tevos will be with us, so will Dr Liara T'Soni, her science adviser and a personal friend of mine; along for the trip also is Dr Karin Chakwas who will be in the med bay, and Dr Michel, another old friend."

"That's _good_ news, surely, sir?"

"It is indeed the _only_ good news I've had this trip. Unfortunately, Chakwas and Michel will be accompanied also by a nurse, and _she_ was… well till she turned up with Michel, I suspected some sort of traitor. Cerberus-flavored poison. My idea of proper accommodation would have involved an airlock. Now I don't know, but I worry about something even more insidious. All these people who should be upset aren't."

"Have you told the Primarch about this, sir?"

"Of course. At length. He promised to look into it with Hackett, and since then he won't discuss it with me. _"_

"Well damn. But it can't be important. Cerberus is dead and gone, and all the prisoners are, well, prisoners. Why isn't this person in Limbo, though?"

"That's a damn good question, pilot, but the fact is she got out before the Cerberus coup."

"That wouldn't stop her being detained, sir, though maybe not for long. Weren't you telling me the engineers in _Normandy_ were in prison for a while?"

This visibly brought Vakarian up short. "Yes. They were. They got Spectre pardons. But _she_ was never detained at all."

"Sir, my father was in the Imperial Intelligence Service–"

"–I'm aware of that, Pilot. It's not without bearing on your current post."

"All I'm saying, sir, is this stinks of double agent stuff. Also, did the engineers get Alliance pardons as well as Council ones? You should check the pardon lists."

"Well, they must have, I guess. They're on duty now."

"Did _she?_ You might find out she wasn't _just_ a Cerberus spy. Sir."

"Suppose she's not on the lists? We assume she's still a spy?"

"No, sir. With respect, I don't think you've thought this through. Have you actually checked? If she's _on_ the lists, _she's not a spy any more."_

"So you're saying if she's _not_ on the pardon lists, she _may or may not_ be an agent of someone."

"Or some two."

"She'll have a primary allegiance, surely."

"Yes, but double agents don't appear on pardon lists till they're well and truly burned or retired, and not always even then, because someone might work out what side they were _really_ on, or who their handler was. They try very hard not to appear on any list at all. People with grudges might come after them. Do _you_ have a grudge, sir?"

Now Vakarian actually looked a bit shaken, but recovered quickly.

"That is all by the by. Of immediate importance, Pilot, I have transfer instructions for _you_. By direction of the Primarch and for the good of the service, you will be detached from duty with this vessel on arrival at the Citadel, and seconded to the asari diplomatic corps."

" _Sir!_ "

"Can the outrage, Flying Officer Bellerophon, trust me, this is a good career move and a really truly juicy assignment, and it comes with a promotion… Flight Lieutenant. Clear?

"Aye aye Sir." It seemed safe to say that.

"The only downside is that you will be training a number of asari commandos, and Dr T'Soni, in piloting a frigate – the same way you've been training the watch officers and me for the last four months. The asari don't have trained personnel in-system, except for the _Destiny Ascension_ and _Cybaen_ , which were with Hackett's fleet. Nearly all the rest of the asari fleet got through the relay network to Thessia before it imploded behind them."

"That's a lot of training and I feel barely competent myself. What class frigate sir? There will be differences in handling."

"No, there won't. There's been a backroom deal brokered by the Primarch. The asari are getting one of the three _Normandy_ -class frigates intended for humans. Which means by the way that there will be diplomatic liaison in the form of a certain retired Colonel called back to service. _'Name of Tactus, you've met him, a good man,_ _not a_ _career_ _diplomat_ _, but very experienced with non-turians, Councilor'_."

"Ah. I think I see. Well, sir, I guess he's my first point of contact."

"Not quite. The Primarch called a confidential briefing with asari and human staff after we're under way. I've been kept out of the loop so far; I wish to hell I could tell you what's going on, but I don't know myself. I'm supposed to be there. So we'll see."

"I'll try to navigate my way through that loop, sir."

"Good man."

 _Victus_

As Garrus entered the access way to the small conference room , the Primarch stirred. A soft chime told off 21:00.

"Right on time, Vakarian."

"The ship VI reminded me. It's an odd feeling being spoken to by a machine in _turian_ , again."

"We've had to move the briefing into the war room, the Colonel's assembling the others there. So there's you, me, _and_ the asari councilor, as well as T'Soni. Tactus, and the three humans. Chakwas, and her team."

" I see Colonel Tactus isn't here yet. The humans… why _did_ you invite the medics?"

"I think you're under a misapprehension, General. _They've_ called the meeting, at Hackett's behest. I imagine Michel and Hannigan, along with Tactus, are present as witnesses. Hackett gave a description of the events surrounding Councilor Anderson's death and the firing of the Crucible some months ago, if you recall."

"Yes, sir. I was there. Chloe Michel filled in a few of the blanks rather vividly, to the extent she could. There was a tiff between Lawson and Hannigan, Chambers, take your pick. You know all this, sir. Oh, and Williams won't post Shepard's name _in memoriam_. Not a lot Tactus hadn't already told us, except for the postscript about Shepard badly off but still breathing, sort of."

"That may be about to change. A short time ago the Alliance war graves commission quietly removed his name from the list of MIA but did not list him as KIA, and the media are bound to notice soon."

"Spirits. That's twice now."

"Not really General, by all accounts he was never clinically dead this time."

"Where is he?"

"We still don't know. But twenty minutes ago I received a hand-delivered _paper_ note from Hackett's operations officer. Here."

Garrus by now had an effective reading knowledge of formal English, some spoken tuition, and an increasing familiarity with Alliance military culture. Paper was actually still used for some legal purposes, art, and things like this standard italic-script handwritten note. No way this had ever touched any digital archive, except possibly as an image.

 _From: Fleet HQ, Admiral Hackett commanding._

 _Three copies only. To: Councilors Sparatus, Tevos. cc: Primarch Victus_

 _Definitive information has come to light regarding the firing of the Crucible, of which the Council should formally be apprised._

 _For security purposes we propose a formal diplomatic delegation present this information in-flight on board_ Peacemaker _, and by QEC to Councilors Valern and Sparatus._

 _Delegation comprises: Ensign Chambers, RN. Captain Chakwas, MD, and Commander Michel, MD…"_

The note continued with boring attendance and venue details. It was to be destroyed on completion of the meeting.

"Good. All we've had is dusty answers. I see Chambers is now formally enlisted. Interesting."

"Commissioned, General, not enlisted. Didn't you notice? Medical staff in the Alliance navy above the rank of paramedic are commissioned officers, so that they can tell stroppy sergeants to bend over for a needle and make it stick, literally. You will notice that Chakwas would have formally outranked Shepard, during his command on __Normandy__ SR1."

"Ah. I stand corrected, Primarch. I was thinking this must mean Chambers has been pardoned."

"Well spotted, General."

Evidently the Primarch had checked the lists, or had someone do it.

"Curious. But mine is not to reason why."

"As you say, General. Now, since Colonel Tactus was closely involved with the events in question, his name is at the top of the list of those whose presence is requested. Sparatus by QEC. Then myself. Next, Tevos and T'Soni. The medical detail including Tactus will be, formally, testifying before the Council."

"Oh. At last. Michel's avoided me for months. I think she's under orders."

"Entirely possible. Speak of the devil… she's bearing chocolates."

 _Osoba_

"Councilor, there is an urgent priority QEC message from Hackett."

"I'll take it in the secure bubble."

 _Tevos_

The QECs in the adjoining chamber flickered into life. The shades of Valern and Sparatus appeared. Tevos looked back.

"Councilors. Primarch. General. Councilor Osoba has messaged me to say that he has been briefed already. We may proceed."

The comm centre chairs were now fully occupied and turned, like a little amphitheatre.

"Very well. Doctor Chakwas, would you begin?"

"Councilor, I am simply here to ensure the well-being of the delegation head."

A stir, even among the turians. Except for Victus. _Well, well_.

"I beg your pardon. I had gathered you were here to introduce the witnesses. Who, may I ask, speaks for the Alliance Fleet?"

"If you consult the paper notification, Councilor, you will find the first delegate listed is Ensign Chambers. Kelly, would you please stand forth."

The nurse who had accompanied them to N-5 stood and made her way to the central ring. Tevos had been very favorably impressed by this person, but was that the name? She considered the ensign a little more closely.

What was Hackett's intent, for such a junior officer to represent him before the highest authority in the galaxy? Was she a sacrificial lamb, to divert criticism of bad judgment? That would be out of character for Hackett. Furthermore, she had accompanied Admiral Shepard. Status was subtly different from rank… as Matriarch Aethyta showed.

So junior a representative might almost be designed to alienate the proud, in which case it would behove her to be cautious. Sparatus had clearly picked up on this too, standing more formally with hands behind his back. Tevos would not put that past Hackett, but turning the matter over in her mind, decided that Chambers' lack of status was exactly the point.

Too exalted a representative might distract from the message. If so, her message was not to be colored by her own minimal authority. It was to be interpreted in the light of the power she served.

Last time, when Tevos was throwing up on the plane, Chambers had worn the uniform of a civilian registered nurse. Now she met the council wearing the much closer-fitting uniform of an Alliance military nurse, a grey-white tunic with blue cloak. It revealed that she was heavily pregnant.

There had been a lot of that going round, lately, including two of her commandos. It was as though life were re-asserting itself. Tevos wondered idly who the father was. She'd ask T'Soni later. Regardless, Hackett's delegate was… almost a juvenile, and of the lowest possible officer rank. Tevos caught T'Soni's eye. Liara almost imperceptibly nodded.

 _All right then; we accept this_.

Chakwas continued:

"Before I yield to the ensign, Councilor, as the ranking officer on _Peacemaker_ Hackett has asked me to communicate a personal apology. While in our first briefing the facts given were as the Turian fleet staff and Alliance HQ knew them, it was quite quickly determined that the body of Commander Shepard was picked up by a mercenary group and rendered to an Alliance medical centre."

"Why was the council not informed at once!" Valern, as usual. Tevos glared at him; that interruption was a breach of protocol.

"Beyond that, Councilors…"  
– but at this point Sparatus' QEC image harrumphed:

"Stand down, Doctor. In fact Councilors, I _was_ officially informed shortly thereafter, though not in writing. In view of the recent incident with the unlicensed clone, turian and human staff felt – and I agreed – that this was Spectre business and should not be made public at the time for security reasons; only those with a need to know were told."

Valern looked far from happy, but that was his normal state. And indeed it _was_ Spectre business. Tevos herself was a little put out, but some carefully qualified hints from T'Soni had kept her from saying things she might have come to regret.

Time to pay that debt, carefully now:

"So, formally, the turians and humans appear to be on a sound footing."

 _Witness_

At this point the nurse – Chambers? Spoke for the first time, gripping the handrail:

"That is the position, yes, Councilor Tevos. But there is more. You will be aware that Dr Michel and Colonel Tactus were present when the bodies were discovered. Tactus, Chloe, would you please stand and be recognized?"

The old turian warrior and the trim Alliance doctor were both familiar figures.

"Yes, I think I recall that. Doctor, Colonel, please be seated."

"You may not be aware, though, that _I was present also_. Should you require it, we can provide corroboration of each other's testimony to some extent."

"Thank you." _That explains her presence on the delegation, at least._ Ensign Chambers took a deep breath and consulted a datapad:

"The first item of business is that Commander John Shepard was, at 1620 hours this day, brought out of coma."

Sensation! Not so much among the Turians. Both Liara and Samara had prepared her for the possibility. But Valern was beside himself.

"What? And this was done without notification?"

"We are notifying you now, Councilor."

"But _after_ the event!"

"Quite right, Councilor. As, I must point out, the Alliance is _absolutely_ entitled to do."

Valern, about to say something, checked himself. Then: "But Shepard is a Council Spectre."

"Your point being, Councilor?"

"We should have been told!"

"Regrettably, Councilor, you will have to take that up with Commander Shepard when he is sufficiently well. Though I note that the commander was not in a position to say anything to anyone till after the fact. More importantly, your Spectre is also a senior officer in the Alliance military. I must point out that by long custom and practice, the Alliance is not obliged to notify you _at all_ of the details of medical treatment of its officers and men. We do so now from courtesy. I ask you now, and I have been _told_ to ask you, _is that perfectly clear?_ "

It must have been. Valern was sputtering in fury. Tevos was enthralled – was that wise in the circumstances? She stole a look at the Primarch, wearing a turian grin, and Sparatus, with difficulty keeping a straight face.

And T'Soni was silently clapping. _Very well_. Valern was not impressed:

"It is utterly unacceptable!"

"Then we will have an altogether different sort of conversation. How do you propose to reject it, Councilor?"

The Ensign folded her arms, and waited!

"To begin with, we will revoke Shepard's spectre st–!"

Valern's QEC image was interrupted by a salarian hand offering a datapad. He glanced at it, and looked, clearly shocked, off-camera.

Sparatus filled the silence: " _We will do no such damn fool thing._ Valern, if you must persist in this, call a vote." Valern handed the datapad back off, and in a much subdued voice, declared:

"That will not be necessary. Would you proceed, Ensign."

…

"In conclusion, Councilors, I note that by the time we reach the Citadel there will be something of a media circus. It is not for the Alliance admiralty to determine how this is addressed. We would ask that you formulate some suitable declaration, with the information provided, along the lines that _Commander Shepard will be recovering his health and may at some point resume diplomatic or spectre duties_. _The search for Reaper remnants continues unabated_. Not quite anodyne platitudes, but calming."

"Indeed. Ensign, Doctor, Colonel; may I say to you all: you have cast much light in dark corners. I thank you for the opportunity to reflect it. Dismissed."

 _Hairspray_

Liara, leaning against the med bay door, looked off to one side a little, and said:

"Here he comes."

"Oh my. Do I look presentable yet?"

"You look very pregnant, and quite gorgeous. I'm positive that pushes a lot of his buttons."

"What buttons– " Garrus asked as he slipped past Liara.

"The big red ones, my dear. Did you try the chocolates?"

"Dammit, Michel, you're enjoying this. And yes, they were delicious, had turian rum in them, I'm a little drunk already. Can I please be allowed to have a word in private?"

"NO!" chorused from two human and two asari voices. Chambers just looked a little bemused.

"Confound it, Chambers, how…"

Everyone waited.

"I mean you've even got a _Councilor_ brushing your _hair_ , dammit."

"Please state your business, General. I'm told you might have something to say to the Ensign here."

Garrus sighed. "All right. The Primarch is a fanatical student of your old Roman Empire, did you know that Chloe? Even reads Latin."

"Worth remembering. Get to the point, Garrus."

"He's not hot on slavery, so he studies how the powerless took power. Institutions like public confession of sins, which even Emperors had to do. He told me a phrase I should use here."

"I think I might know it. We won't ask you to get on your knees, given the anatomical issues. But say it anyway, so we can give you a hug and get on with the party."

"Fine. _'Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa.'_ "

* * *

– _Next chapter will be #_ _38_ _, "On our way home_ _…"_ _–_

* * *

Thursday, July 23, 2015


	4. On our way home

Road to nowhere, Arc 4 of "Gone with the Sun"

Chapter 38 **On our way home**

* * *

 _H_ _ard point_

The cargo bay of _Overlord_ , like other _Normandy_ -class frigates, was currently burdened with the hardpoints for experimental weapons whose latest iterations would, every couple of weeks, be tested (and usually found wanting). Right now, though, it was the only place in the ship suitable for field practice.

Zabaleta watched Jack's biotic teenagers' rather sloppy retreat from the firing pits. Performance had not been terrific. These kids might be crackerjack biotics, but with a couple of exceptions, Prangley and Merizan, their pistol scores were woeful, and that would have to change on any realistic battlefield.

"Jack!" She looked up. He motioned her over.

 _Contingency planning_

"What is it, Zeb? I'm kinda busy."

"Jack, you know how to teach biotics. But you need some help with the firearms."

"The hell? I do just fine."

" _You_ use a shotgun, mostly. Up close and personal. Someone shoots back, you're not there when the bullet is. A lot of these kids aren't athletes like you, they don't have your muscle tone, they're not used to the recoil. Most of your kids are kinda intellectual."

"They're a bit geeky, yeah. But I've been working on their fitness. What they need is more time. Look, we can talk about this over coffee, come on."

Mainly, Zabaleta suspected, they didn't have the automatic skills of long familiarity. Every recoil was new and variable, instead of being a fairly constant impulse one's muscle memory would account for, with training.

" _T_ _ime_? They might not have a lot. The ones who do well, get motivation from making training a sort of competitive game. Losing _all_ the time turns off the others, especially the girls. Also biotics won't help if your amp overheats. They need small-arms drill and unarmed combat, too."

Jack shrugged, feeling a bit helpless. The old soldier was right, and she knew it.

"So what do we do?" They entered the lift and headed up.

"Just a suggestion, Jack, but I think they could benefit from a bit of groundside distraction target training. Before that, though, they have to _really_ get to know their weapon. Those marines –"

"– forget them, they think we're not proper soldiers, just mercenary schmucks."

"Yeah, well, OK. They're god-awful young too. They'll adapt if they spend any time here. They do have a drill which takes months to get down pat. Maybe we can organize one of them to spend the two days to Earth with the kids. Just how to field-strip and reassemble their weapons."

Jack paused a moment, then: "Jacob used to do that shit. I'm not sure my kids have the patience. I know I don't."

"So find a way to make it interesting. Without being competitive. If there's a competition, someone has to lose. We need them all _competent_. It would be nice if some of them are expert, but that's optional. I could get Toombs to give instruction."

"Kids don't like being lectured at. Especially not by someone like Toombs."

"Why not?"

"He's not _cool_. Jeez, Zeb, for a smart man you can be awfully dumb."

"Yeah." The old man looked like he was remembering something. "So maybe we get someone who _is_ cool. What about Lawson?"

"Beyond cool. She's a _frozen_ _ice queen_ , except around Shep. Class, not cool. Besides, she's all grown-up. Thirty-seven, remember."

"Dang. That's four years older than Shepard… would be."

"Good save. Didn't stop them, did it?"

"Yeah. You'd never know it. Well, someone more their own age. Those marines?"

"Hell, no, the best of them are like Jacob, they take life way too seriously."

"That's a _good_ thing."

"My kids are _normal_ teenagers, Zeb, they ain't never gonna die. Well they might know that up _here_ (she touched the top of her head), but not _here_ (she tapped her heart). Whatever you teach, you gotta make it _live_. Guns don't live."

"We need another teenager, then? _With_ Toombs. So he can pick up when they're missing something. Otherwise, we don't have cool, we don't have a kid to talk to kids, and the marines are too gung-ho."

Jack considered that.

"Maybe Goldstein. Hadley says what she don't know about guns ain't worth knowing. I dunno, Goldstein's got wit and a sort of style, but cool?"

"Get Lawson on her case. See if life in the fridge exists."

 _Sleeper service_

" _Fifteen_ _minute departure warning._ " Yoof's voice carolled through the cargo bay of _Overlord_ , open with only retention fields to space. The biotic recruits from Grissom had just stowed the targets set up at the open loading bay door.

The Marine corporal had lined up his little five-man squad in the armory at the end of exercise. A shuttle appeared from the rear of _Orizaba._

"Right, boys, that was a good warm-up." There were groans. The small marine squad had just finished aerobics plus push-ups plus forty laps.

"You've one more duty before heading to the elevator. That shuttle is carrying a casualty from _Orizaba_ 's sick bay for treatment Earthside, but our own sick bay has too much activity with treating the ex-Cerberus people. So he gets the Captain's loft for the journey. He's wheelchair bound, we meet him with the gurney and take him up."

"Jesus. He get's Lawson's berth? What does Lawson think about that?"

"She's his medic, this trip, I presume _Overlord_ is being paid in something other than coin. Most of the time she'll be with him or Zabaleta on duty in sick bay. I'm told we also pick up some struck-off medic from the moon."

At that point the elevator opened and Lawson stepped through, just as the shuttle coasted through the bay door. "Ten- _shut._ "

"Thank you, Corporal. Gurney party, with me."

The shuttle door gaped and a bandaged figure was passed out in a wheelchair by two hulking marines under the watchful eye of an Alliance Admiral. She nodded as Lawson approached, and saluted the guard.

"Miranda. Delivery as scheduled Commander Ivan Higgins Bruce. Corporal, if you would." The squad got busy.

"Thanks, Hannah. You'd better zip, I think our pilot wants to show off again, and I have to go squelch his enthusiasm."

The patient was carefully lifted on the gurney and moved away. The Admiral waved at Lawson as the shuttle door sealed. It moved backwards through the still open port, rotated in place and dwindled towards the dreadnought again. The party moved to the elevator, where the psychotic biotic awaited, drumming her fingers.

"Loft."

The trip up went by in silence. Once at the top, the patient was helped out of the gurney; Lawson and Jack took him on their shoulders into the Captain's cabin area. Jack returned.

"Thanks heaps, boys. Dismissed. You'd better get to your crash restraints, Yoof wants to go home."

 _Sick transits_

Yoof did not in fact want to go home. He had met up with Jeff Moreau, who had beaten Lawson to N-5, if only just, courtesy of some VI refinements. But it was vital, in their view, to get a speedy transit algorithm exactly right. They had been calculating.

" _Okay, Moreau. I see what you've done with the core optimization, in principle. But_ Overlord _doesn't have the VI capacity to run the path of least action."_

The N-5 gate was part of an experimental configuration orbiting a rogue gas giant. The mini-Jovian originally had a dozen small chondritic moonlets remaining from whatever it had before it was ejected from its parent stellar system, to its current position out of the galactic plane; N-5 was one of six relays now arranged in a hexagonal "Klemperer rosette", so-called.

" _Don't get hung up on the programming complexity. That's why we have pilots."_

When _Kilimanjaro's_ engineers noticed that three of these mini-moons were of approximately the right mass (over 40 kilotonne), a little more than 60 metres in diameter, they fitted fusion torches, burned off some mass to equalize them, and dragged them to form a triangle. They orbited ten kilometres from a central point – a much lighter but larger hollow "maintenance station" of a couple of hundred metres diameter.

" _Can I make use of the rotational symmetry?_ "

Such polygon orbits are not normally in stable equilibrium to small perturbations. These almost were, being at mutual Lagrangian points, hence required minimal thruster adjustment. In addition, the engineers then spun three relays in a smaller triangle around the big artificial moon, at orbits of a little over four kilometres radius.

N-5 was one such. Besides these interior relays, three more sat on the outer 60m-diameter moonlets. N-6 sat on an outer 60m-diameter moonlet, around twelve kilometres away.

One nucleus of its QEC pair had just been implanted in N-6. The other would be emplaced in N-7 when it was constructed in two months' time, and nearly six hundred light years away.

" _Yeah. Work out a close-to-optimal course for a given point in the rosette's orbit._ "

Yoof's digital paper now contained a rough cut of combined thruster / mass effect effort for a reasonably rapid transit between the two. The speeds for such small distances were typically very low; around the speed of a walking man, the safe option for a massive object like a frigate. Get that up to the speed of a running man, and one could cut an _outrageous_ amount of time off the transit. Together the six 'moons' now formed a (3a,3b,1c) Klemperer rosette, a gravitationally stable hexagon, each of which sat in a Lagrangian point of two others. The fusion thrusters were hardly needed any more.

" _Uh, here comes Lawson. My boss. I'll go with what I've got for now. She might want some Eezo from O-6."_

The O-relays linked to "interesting" places a few hundred light years off in the dark – like O-3, which by default, linked to O-6, fixed to a high peak on the dark side of a Mercury-sized planet, in turn orbiting one of the very few actual stars to be found this far out of the galactic plane.

" _Man, ain't you going to have fun."_

Yoof's skin crawled thinking about his only passage of O-6. Recommended transit technique was to remain in the planets shadow till far enough away for an FTL jump a few dozen AU out-system. There was Eezo to be found near O-6, but one did not commit the transit without thinking twice. By default, O-6 was set to dump incoming straight into the planet's surface…

" _Your VI should be able to run a perturbation analysis for the mass anomalies that'll get you at the wormhole window without tripping gimbal lock."_

The digital paper was getting full. Yoof entered the waypoints of his rough cut into the VI; fingers pinched the bottom left corner twice and it flickered briefly before clearing. _"_ _Okay, buddy. Here's Lawson. Five minutes to undock._ _Time_ _for me_ _to zip_."

"Yoof, a word."

" _Hasta la vista, baybee."_ Yoof muted the TBS.

"Ma'am? Captain?" She didn't look upset with him, just serious.

"You will be aware that we have a senior officer on board. A casualty on transfer."

"Yeah, ma'am, there was some scuttlebutt."

"So we will NOT be detouring to O-6 this transit. We'll replenish Eezo on arrival."

"Uh… okay, ma'am. That's a bit of a relief, to be honest."

Even if O-6 allowed passage, you had to have shields up, because on exiting the planet's shadow the photosphere of a hot, hot Harvard class B star was only five million kilometres away.

"I wanted to speak to you about taking risks."

"Er, ma'am, I've learned my lesson. I won't risk the boat."

"Wrong, Yoof. You WILL risk the boat."

"Ma'am?"

"This is not an Alliance ship, Yoof. I expect risk to be balanced by reward. What you did at L1 was correct, but only because first, you had permission from the XO, and second, you were proven right by events."

"Uh… thank you ma'am. I think."

"Had you got it wrong, though, and killed one of my crew recklessly, you would be spaced. Unless I had some other use for you. Like organ transplants."

Yoof kept silent.

"Likewise, if we had suffered damage because you did not focus and do your utmost, I'd have dropped you at the next port."

This demanded some sort of response. "Permission to speak freely, ma'am."

"Always."

"Perhaps you should drop me off at the next port, ma'am. I wouldn't be able to keep up with _Normandy_ as we're configured at present. Need more real-time computing power."

"I'm looking into that."

"The second thing, ma'am, is that I know what I do looks risky. It's not. I calculate where I can and stay safe where I can't. I think I'm damn good at my job, but I wouldn't do what you did on the way here. One day I'd make a mistake. You wouldn't, I think. But I'd do my level best, always, and I don't believe you'll find ten pilots in the fleet who could beat me. It's just unfortunate that two of them are on the _Normandy_ , and you're another."

Miranda hunkered down and looked Yoof in the eyes.

"You might as well space me now, ma'am." _Well, baby, maybe I'll see you a bit sooner than I'd thought._ But she didn't look fierce. Just thoughtful.

"All right, Yoof. Not that I necessarily believe what you're saying. But I see that _you_ believe it."

The captain stood back up.

"One thing. There aren't _two_ pilots better on the _Normandy_."

"Ma'am?"

"Didn't Joker tell you? He's been seconded to the _Orizaba_ and _Kilimanjaro_. You might beat _Normandy_ yet. But if you do, you're probably taking more risks than Cortez. Do you feel lucky, Yoof? _"_

"Er… not so much, captain."

"Good man. Keep us alive, this trip. The man in the loft has things to live for, even if we don't."

* * *

 _Next chapter: #39, "AD"_

* * *

Friday, July 24, 2015


	5. AD

Road to nowhere, Arc 4 of "Gone with the Sun"

Chapter 39 **AD**

* * *

 _Crunch time_

All that time with no exercise had severely affected bone, connective tissue, and muscle. Even his fat reserves had dwindled dramatically.

"Damn, you look thin, Shepard." That was all too true. In the mirror he could see deep sunken cheeks and shadowed eyes, completely out of sync with his mental body image.

""Feeling fragile sucks… but I suppose it's better than feeling nothing at all." Shepard shuffled back to the hospital bed set up alongside Miranda's queen-size. Jack followed, looking concerned.

"It's all I can do to get out of bed and go to the toilet."

"You couldn't even do _that_ four hours ago." There wasn't room for side-tables now. Even Miranda's office space was full of things that went _beep_ faster when he got up.

"Michel injected some kind of nanite maintenance cluster. Tomorrow I'm allowed to swing 2kg weights. Even that gives me all sorts of warning twinges."

Jack made her way to the sofa, falling back, legs in air. "I'll bring mine."

Shepard sat back on the bed. "I'd look forward to that."

"Maybe we could do isotonics together. If the weights hurt."

"Miranda said bones are still mending, but she didn't say no to the weights."

"Miracles _do_ happen. We'll get her involved too. She needs to de-stress. She's been teaching _my_ kids unarmed combat."

This was an arresting mental vision. "Not marine hand-to-hand?"

"Nah, Toombs suggested that. He's got her ex-Cerberus kids doing it but Lawson suggested Aikido for my biotics from Grissom. _Builds muscle tone_ , she says. _Man-killing is for later_. Is that humor?"

"Embryonic, but yes. It's also a good plan. Maybe I should do it, too."

"That shit will kill you if you overdo it. I've been trying to keep up and _I've_ got aches where I didn't know I had muscles."

"But _we_ are older. Chakwas and Michel think I can ramp up muscle tone and weight over the next six months."

"Tai Chi for you, mister, till you're better. Anything faster, you might break."

"Miranda thinks she can do better. She's going to put me on some steroid derivative, temporarily. There's a pill to counter side-effects, and something else to stop me losing bone."

"She knows her stuff. Take it."

"She's more edgy than I remember, though. What was that about going to string the pilot up by his balls?"

"That's just her making a point to her crew. To fully man _Overlord_ she had to get extra bodies, but nearly all the available mercs worth having, left with Massani."

"There's a manpower shortage, right?"

"You got it. She got desperate and asked me. I told her to see Chambers, which made her pout, but next thing you know, Hackett's had Osoba suspend the sentences of some very naughty conscripts on condition they enlist with AD."

"Ah. That sounds like our girl. I hope you went with Miranda to the interviews."

"Sure. Miranda did the talking, but she's not the best judge sometimes. Like with Niket."

"I don't think she had other kids around much when she was little."

"Uh huh. Neither did I. Anyway, Kelly and I had vetos."

"What sort of conscripts _were_ these?"

"The ones who got interviews had to be sparky, the pilot's an exception. Fighter jock, did something stupid and got kicked out of the Navy. Did something else really _stoopid_ when his girl died; he joined Cat6, and got put in clink."

"Oho. Kelly saw some value in him?"

"Yeah. Muttered something about hope. Also, there were two others not terribly bright, but built like Vega. They weren't nasty or slow, exactly, but their brains didn't grow with their bodies, and they got in big trouble. Yesterday she buddied them with a couple of drop-dead gorgeous bratty PFC's who were caught running rations to their homies. It's been fun to watch."

"I can imagine."

"You couldn't get a knife between them. They follow Sanders around like puppies if her migraines aren't bad that day. Miranda otherwise. Yesterday one of those girls asked if she was the bitch of the crew. She actually said _No, you are the crew of the bitch_."

That made Shepard laugh, which hurt a little. "More Miranda humor?"

"Yeah. The old Miranda would have given her a cold stare. I blame _you_ , Shepard. Anyway, interviews. She wasn't as picky as me. Most failed in the first minute of the interview. There were two who looked plausible but something twanged me wrong."

"How many did Kelly reject?"

"Anyone creeped Chambers out bad, like those two, they saw Coats afterwards. Smiles like a shark, that man. _He_ gave them to his Russian friend. Mostly, though, Miri picked bright young villains who were _interestingly_ foolish." Shepard nodded.

"In the end there were none over twenty-five. This boat is full of juvenile pirates. I love it." Jack got up, sat cross-legged on the double bed in front of him.

" _Shep_. Talk to me. What's eating you?"

"Eh?"

"I'm not your girl, you idiot, but I can tell when you're not happy. Did something happen between you and Kelly? You haven't talked about your kid, or her, at all. To anyone. Did you have some massive argument? 'Cos that doesn't sound like Kelly."

Shepard cradled his head in his hands. "Not exactly. There hasn't been time."

"Don't get me wrong, I'm glad you're back. Miranda too."

Now Shepard looked up, sharply.

"She doesn't understand why she gets to look after you all of a sudden, but she's so happy I heard her _humming_ to herself doing the supply requisitions with Sanders."

"We didn't yell at each other, Jack. And I'm going Earthside partly so some Salarian doctor can look at my bones, but mostly because in ten days or so Kelly's due to pop, and I want to be there, and she wants me there."

"But?"

"But… I'd rather not say. Look, after a few months, they're going to redo some implants the Doctors are working on. Then I've got… three major missions Hackett wants me around for. Not directly in charge, but just in case."

"And one of them's the Nest, right?"

"Right."

Jack jumped up, grabbed his shoulders and kissed him. " _Great!_ " Shepard blinked.

"What was that?"

"Sanders says I have to keep you alive and happy."

"That's funny. Kelly says _I_ have to keep _Miranda_ alive and happy."

Jack threw her head back in peals of laughter. Right then the door parted and Miranda walked in.

"What's so funny? Crash webbing, Jack, the kids are wrapped, we go in one minute. Bunk here with us. Shepard, what are you doing out of bed?"

 _Getaway vehicle_

Once past N-3 there was a fairly long diversion cross-system to pick up a maintenance team. With a couple of hours before next transit, Sanders' tech troop filed into the subwell under engineering and looked around with interest at the webbing bunks next to the toolspace where Jack's old hidey-hole would have been on _Normandy_.

"Right, boys and girls, here's your digs for this leg of the trip back. It's a bit cramped, but it's close to engineering and it'll do till the cargo bays are sorted later."

"Do we just dump our kits here, Kahlee?"

"Yes. You have quarter of an hour to stow them and sort your emergency crash webbing slings. End of this run, we're picking up a proper medic, except Jana's a Cerberus officer. This was Harper's own doctor."

This was not well received. "She's not in jail?"

"She _is_ in jail, Matthews. She and the Illusive Man were close. She's not like Chakwas, who was basically on a standard mercenary medic contract."

"But she's being sprung…" (Matthews) "… by Lawson?" (Hawthorne)

"Just like _you_."

"Actually Chakwas got us out and you got us here, Kahlee. We get it, though."

"Do you? You were Lawson's crew, she asked, I just facilitated. The other thing is Jana's your only hope for telling us what's going on inside your heads. This finishing each others' sentences business is making your fellow crew look sideways."

"Oh."

"Yes, Oh. So sort your lockers, pick up the toolsets and we head up to the med bay, clear the cold sleep bunks and set them up in port cargo space by the end of the watch. Jack's kids are doing the same with the XO's office, which she and I are taking over with a couple of scientists."

"This for a new mission, ma'am?"

"I'll let you know more later, but next run is to the Horsehead Nebula, five hundred parsecs away, it's taken two hundred days to get a relay link. _Don't_ spread that around. Got it?"

"Aye, aye."

 _Evolution by other than natural selection_

There were no dreams this morning. Shepard opened sleepy eyes. A monitor beeped. Miranda was getting up too.

He actually felt almost normal. It was an illusion which would be quickly dispelled by gravity. He stared at the ceiling for a few seconds.

"You're awake. Here's tea."

He turned over to see Miranda approach, still in PJs. "Am I _allowed_ tea?"

"Of course. It's just theophylline and rather a lot of caffeine. Sit up."

Shepard obliged, took a sip. Slightly astringent but he felt better. "Thanks."

"No worries. Better for you than your evil synthetic coffee."

Miranda selected a blue-black skinsuit, draped it over the bed, undid her pyjama top, and stepped out of the bottoms. Shepard couldn't help staring. A monitor beeped faster; Miranda looked over her shoulder at it, turned back to him, and grinned.

"Well, some things are clearly coming back to life." She gyrated towards him in just bra and pants, and put hands on hips.

"All I can say is, _yum_. Ooh. You're beautiful when you blush. Scratch that, you're beautiful, period."

"I'm _happy_."

"So am I, I guess."

"Don't be naughty. Kelly will be upset."

Then she looked dismayed as John sighed, "I don't _think_ so."

"Did you have some kind of bust-up?"

"No. But she won't stay with me. _"_

"But you're having a baby!"

"Yeah."

Miranda rocked back on her heels. "Is that why you were out of sorts? Jack was muttering something, but frankly you looked terrible at first, I wasn't expecting happy-happy joy-joy."

"I've seen myself in the mirror."

"You're better than you were. In just a few hours you've filled out a bit. Wasting away, but more like the Shepard I knew. Is this baby blues?"

"Look, being a Dad gives me goosebumps, but life might be over any moment. It's just up then down. Doesn't help I barely knew _my_ Dad. Is it OK to talk to you about this?"

"Babe, you can always talk to me. I thought I'd lost you forever. Kelly must have felt worse, with what I did."

"What _did_ you do?"

Miranda suddenly looked grief-stricken. "Please, later?"

"Okay." It wasn't okay, he would have make inquiries. But let's deal with one life-shattering event at a time. Men are supposed to be bad at multitasking, hah.

"Miranda… I don't think I'm wired to understand this sort of drama by instinct, and it's hard to be sure what's going on intellectually."

"I'm not wired for it either. But I've studied it. She knows she's giving birth, and trust me that will be a massive trauma. You can't sugar-coat this. The pain and the damage is the price we pay for self-awareness."

Shepard considered that. "It's like the shrimp. Evolution in action."

"Say again?"

"Just something I remember from class. A shrimp which evolved as a hunter so it needed a bigger brain, but that compressed its throat so the only thing it could swallow was blood."

Miranda looked a bit shocked. "You surprise me, Shepard, all the time."

"Just high school, on board ship."

"You'd be _amazed_ how few boys actually pay attention in high school. That's why more girls graduate. Anyway, she's educated, she's felt her body metamorphose, barely grown up and she knows what's coming… Bloody old fogeys used to call it hysteria. It's a perfectly rational response to being eaten alive by your progeny."

"Is she too young?"

"Biologically? Hell no. Kids used to get pregnant when they were thirteen. I think the record was nine, or six, something like that. Selecting for the barbaric."

"I guess we have tech now which prolongs our prime. We live to a hundred and sixty or so, if we get the treatments. That might help."

"Right. And she's had the treatment, courtesy Cerberus. So did you. Me too. But that treatment doesn't enable childbirth earlier! It only preserves child-bearing for a while longer, into what was once old age. Back before CRISPR genemods there was a quite definite ideal point, the bottom of the bathtub curve, for a woman to have a child. It's still a live issue. Pity the poor asari."

"Eh?"

"Well, for example, Samara had just three kids in a thousand-year lifetime, and that's typical, or they'd have a population problem almost as bad as the Krogan. Eezo exposure is responsible, of course, which has obvious implications for Jack too."

"Ah. I do see. What did you mean, 'Bathtub curve?'"

"A graph of bad consequences against time. Likelihood of failure of an engineering part, for example. Quite high at the start – it might be badly installed. And high at the end – the part wears out. Back then I'd be too old to expect to bear children, not that age matters in my case."

"Yes, I saw the dossier."

"I gathered that. Historically, one academic – Kathy Sanders – observed actually getting fertilized falls off in a woman's early forties. On top of which, after one's early thirties most spontaneously abort, because the quality of the ova declines."

"There might have been some movement since spaceflight? "

"Trust me, Kelly's still optimal. Hang on."

Still wearing the bare minimum, Miranda walked behind her vidscreen and began searching. Shepard shifted his legs off and sat on the bedside. The view was nicer.

"Right, here we are. " _The Book of Ages_ ", Desmond Morris, nineteen eighty-three, review of contemporary literature. The best balance between trauma too early for a young body, and the later genetic anomalies like Downs' syndrome, not to mention issues with bone loss, torn mesenteries and… various neoplasms… was twenty-two years of age. And here's another, by Wood, 'Fecundity and natural fertility in humans', nineteen eighty-nine, Oxford Review of Reproductive Biology. Same peak, twenty-two years old."

"That's fairly specific. What criteria?"

"Well, 'fecundability' Ability to conceive _and_ bring to term. Also, infant mortality, defect-free embryos, – all have a similar effect… Lower risk of ectopic pregnancy."

"What's that?"

"You don't want to know. These days, the bottom of the bathtub curve shifts to late twenties, maybe even late thirties. But that estimate was published just before various forms of genetic therapy and other interventions became possible. Look, biologically your girl's close to ideal. Mentally? I had the impression she was positive about pregnancy, but… I think it scares her, too. Is that it, I wonder?"

"Don't know. I've barely had any time to talk with her. She cuddles nice. What I remember was heavenly. But I was barely awake. And, we didn't talk more than two minutes before she had to go."

"So she's running off? Hannah warned me about this."

"I don't think so. What she actually said was that she won't marry me. She'd take me if she could have me, but she can't have me –"

"I bet she's getting ready to run off…"

"– on the other hand, _I_ can have _her_. That was the last thing she said before the door opened. So she's not running."

"Ah."

"Kelly also told me to look out for _you._ " This made Miranda blink. "And I _suspect_ she got Sanders to tell _Jack_ to look out for _me_." Now Miranda laughed out loud.

"Jack's got other responsibilities. But Sanders can help look after them. Actually, it's like Kelly's trying to build support networks, behind the scenes."

"That would be in character."

"The problem is that she does this and then she thinks, job done, she can bugger off. I need to talk to your Mom."

"So do I."

* * *

 _Next chapter: #40, "Limbus Patrum"_

* * *

Thursday, July 23, 2015


	6. Limbus Patrum

Road to nowhere, Arc 4 of "Gone with the Sun"

Chapter 40 **Limbus Patrum**

* * *

 _Billy the Kid_

It was too bad that the recruiters had to include Jack. On hearing that he nearly had to change pants, but toughing it out paid off. He very much did not want to be on the same ship as Jack, but anything was better than another day in the same cell as that damned Jamaican with the glittering teeth.

Finessing the dame in the whoresuit was just possible, he'd thought, pegging her as an easy mark, but five seconds had disabused him of that; those crystal eyes, so hard to meet. That class act gave the orders, the bit of fluff in white and red only shook hands then withdrew; Jack just eased back and said nowt but missed nowt. On the other hand Jack had never seen most of the prisoners on Purgatory, least of all him, so he stuck like glue to being a Silly Billy, and it seemed to work… except it didn't.

The boss went over for tea, with Jack, from the swayte thang. He couldn't hear what they said to each other but when they came back they both had a look in their eye, and he was squarely in Jack's sights. That was bad enough but the vibe from the dame was entirely different, Billy thought he'd felt death on two legs before but this was a living blade sniffing around his gonads. He kept very still while she steepled her fingers:

 _Well, Billy. Unfortunately we don't have room for your… specialties on the ship. But there are reconstruction projects in London and miners with caisson experience are needed for the Thames reconstruction. Would you care for that?_

The hell he would.

But from the Thames how long might it take to get away? Twenty minutes, tops. He said he'd love the job, met another reject, was given a thirty-second lecture by a dangerous-looking hard man who didn't look like he believed them but would play along. Instinct said _keep your bloody head down_ , he lived through a wild shuttle ride to a flood control repair site, drew clothes, mask. _"Formal demobilisation will be at the end of shift,_ _you get to take your first pay then._ _"_

He actually did know about caisson work, the other reject didn't and went god knew where. He'd kept his eyes open, saw the ground-effect bus embarkation point had only a down-on-his-luck shambling ex-soldier on guard, must be thirty-five, old Alliance fatigues, no insignia.

It took quarter of an hour to pick a fight in the back of an old container over spilled coffee. Finally he laid his hands on a discarded bit of pipe while the blackguard cuffed him over the head then kicked him as he was cringing. Three seconds after he spat and turned on his heel, Billy rose up, belting the bugger in the back of his head. Another minute and he had the mark's bus card and wallet. _Hey, the twenty minutes is up, Billy._ Must be getting slower. Older. He'd have to mug Father Time one day.

The old duffer wouldn't scan the pass, though. Just slurred _'When shift's over, wait for the guard'_ then got in the driver's seat. Crap. Couldn't wait. The alarm could go at any time.

Nerf the old guy, he decided, grab the bus, skip out after five minutes, hide in the City.

Billy ran up, thumped the corporal out, jumped in the seat – when the duffer bounced back up! " _I don't think so, you piece of shit_." For that the fool had to die. Billy pulled his shank, went superfast for the throat–

…

"Well, Billy. It is Billy, isn't it?"

A hand slapped his face. Someone had poured half a jug of Thames water over his head. Someone would pay for that, as well as the slap.

Shit, it was the hard man. He had the driver with him. Who suddenly didn't look old or shambling any more. _"You bastard."_

"Your insults are almost as predictable as your knife work. Can I hit him again, sir?"

"Just let's see. Don't call me sir, Toombs, you're a civilian now."

"Yes, sir."

Hard man shook his head and turned back to him. "Actually, ex-Corporal Toombs' parents were married - in the eyes of the Church, at least. Yours, I see, were not. How unfortunate. I suppose I have to take that into consideration."

"I want a lawyer."

"We are beyond lawyers at this point. You never did bother to demob before making your break, so you are still under military discipline. You know what that means, Billy?"

 _Oh f…_

"Now, I _could_ hold a disciplinary enquiry over the man you gave a fractured skull. If he's not dead now he will be, but I can't wait for that, I need to get back to my ship. No loss, it's true, I've been looking for a way to get rid of the psycho git for some time, and he's got a kidney compatible with a deserving kid in Suffolk. But you did whack him when he was walking away. I've got it on video. So his wife gets his pension, you go before a military tribunal on charges of assault, attempted GBH, on top of murder of another soldier in time of war, which my witness here would demand be convened _immediately_. Goodness, it turns out there's a sufficiently senior officer to pass sentence on the spot. That would be me. What do you think the sentence is, Billy?"

Billy knew when he was screwed. He stayed schtum.

"Or, you could accept administrative punishment, which would save me time. It means you go where I say. No choice. Orders like that don't have to have any reason at all. So _if_ you sign here, which means accepting administrative action by the way, I'm seconding you to a labor detail. On a canal. In Russia. In theory you might get back to Blighty in ten years. Do you speak Russian, Billy?"

"Nyet."

"Good man. I'm sure you learn fast, Billy."

"I don't _believe_ this. You're a dead man –"

The driver shoved a pistol in Billy's nostril so fast it should have broken the septum.

"Toombs."

"Please, sir, just one plop and he's in the river."

"Too much paperwork. I only want transfer paperwork on this. One last chance, Billy? Yes? Sign here… and _here_. Well done. One more thing, Billy."

"What?"

"You have dropped off lists of Alliance citizenship. You're now in the hands of the new _Oprichniki_. I mean, you're a lower-class citizen. Some sort of _zek_. That's something lower. Mikhailovich has expressed a need for people like you. I know you won't credit it, Billy, but while the rules I live by have been relaxed, they are still there. I'm supposed to tell you formally, _Behave_. Remember the Russians have enacted freedom of information statutes of a rather unusual kind."

"So?"

"It means they can scan you at any time for any reason or no reason. If, I mean when, you annoy them, _they can look inside your head_. They will be doing what they did with the indoctrinated, Billy. Looking for bits of you they can take out. Then replace with very clever little boxes."

"Fuck you."

"That's the spirit. Do please say that to the first chekist you meet."

 _B_ _riefing for a_ _n ascent_

A noise woke her in the semi-dark. The whole dormitory held a numinous charge. This had happened before. She'd never get used to the threat evaluation VI's ways of getting attention, but something _was_ a bit off. Implant arithmetic said the lighting day-cycle was three hours away. Not time to get up. There were pools of light along the corridor, which should be black as Cronos night.

Some professional part of her always considered it odd that she could recognize her own delusions, or at least their precursor; an unaccountable nimbus of tension, recognizable as the initial stage of psychosis. This was the first time at night, though. Maybe this was simply false awakening, a lucid dream. She pinched herself. Felt real. Meant nothing. She wasn't alone in her head.

Actually, just possibly, her implants were trying to tell her something. The clink of weapons against restraint hardware told her a jailer was coming. _That_ was real; neither uncanny, nor suspicious. Odd time for it, though. Who would she have to talk to this time? Chakwas? Last time she just sat in the background while she gave Michel a heads-up about the indoctrination bridges. Might be more of the same, but not so desperate? _No, it'd be bad practice to rely on me, there's damage_ _._ _More likely they're moving me out of Limbo when no other inmates can see_. Good KZ-lager practice.

The clinking stopped. In its place her enhanced hearing caught a soft footfall. Better to meet this upright. She quietly slipped out of bed, already fully-clothed, another jail habit she found it hard to slip, although new clothes had appeared two days ago… including a fluffy white nightgown. The footpad stopped outside her door. She waited.

"Jana. Would you open the door please."

 _Lawson?_

Her threat VI dated from Miranda's defection. It screamed _Death_ and highlighted the door. Limbo limned in red. In the next 0.1s Jana tried telling the VI death was a positive outcome. It didn't seem to help. Then, _If Miranda wanted revenge, the door would be splintered_. 0.2s; the VI backed off a bit. _And she said, Please_. The VI backed off some more. Besides, Miri had quit TIM's service. Updating the personnel database took 0.4s. Door was dark, now. Her VI allowed her to key personal door access to green, 0.15s.

Lawson, indeed, in the doorway. "That took you long enough." Jana shrugged.

Some old marine immediately turned half-circle, taking station at the entrance while a younger one took up station inside, just to the left. Not Cerberus, Alliance military drill. The younger one stood at ease, hand inside a half-open jacket, eyes fixed on the far corner. Here but not here.

Jana half-turned also, indicating the chairs at her minidesk. She'd been given privileges after the indoctrination tutorial proved good, such as a larger cell of her own – and the desk. It lacked extranet but had library privileges. Whatever Lawson wanted, she'd give it, to keep that.

"Can I offer coffee, Miranda? I've got some half-decent stuff, now."

"Yes, thank you. It's a bit early for comfort."

She poured two then on impulse poured two more disposable cups, taking them to the sentries in the doorway. The old guy accepted instantly. It was fun watching the expression on the younger, as he was obliged to keep one hand on whatever was in the jacket.

Lawson actually _smiled_ at her as she sat down. "That was naughty."

"He needs to relax."

"So do you."

"Worst has already happened. I'm relaxed."

"Tell it to the machine in your ghost."

"I do, I do, all the time."

Lawson leaned back. "Are you comfortable here?"

"Things have improved. Were you responsible for the new clothes?"

"I approved it. The idea came from someone else. It was Chloe who organized the coffee machine and the library link."

"Thank you. Thank them, too." A brief pause ensued.

"You're looking good, Miranda. Not so… wound up."

"That's odd. I have my own ship, now, and crew."

"Ah. But that's a load you take on for yourself, you see. Easier to bear."

"Very true. Have to say, Jana, you look dreadful."

"I've hung a jacket over the mirror in the closet."

"Do you sleep?"

"Electrophysiologically, no."

Miranda put down her cup.

"Would you like to?"

 _A harrowing experience_

It took five minutes to get the attention of the captain in out-processing, who at least was polite. Ten more to call the warder, who wouldn't release the prisoner. Three minutes to let Hackett know, five to get confirmation from Coats that release was authorized.

"You can wait till office hours, dammit," said the Warder.

"There's a reason for the time. The Colonel gave you an order, Major." said Lawson, whose mood was getting as dark as her skinsuit.

"Too bad, he can give it to me in–"

The warder did not finish the sentence. Being face down on the floor with a gun to the back of his head was a significant impediment.

"You are under arrest."

"On what charge!?"

Zabaleta took two steps, removed the warder's card, comm pin, and omnitool. He wasn't packing a gun. Lawson called up armed guard at the primary exit from _Normandy_ , then:

"Failure to obey the order of a superior officer in time of military emergency or war."

"We've beaten the Reapers!"

Toombs, who had read the signs, was covering the captain, frozen at his console with his mouth forming an O. Clearly not combat personnel. Williams was telling Lawson, " _With pleasure."_ Zabaleta nudged Toombs, assuming cover duty.

"Funny, that. The Council in its wisdom hasn't rescinded the state of siege. Captain, the Warder is relieved; you are designated in charge. If you would, the gate."

"And if I wouldn't?"

Miranda gave no response at all, just waited. This meant a count of five. The captain worked it out in time.

"All right, already, I'm opening!"

The open gate revealed a platoon of _Normandy_ marines covering the exit. At no time had there been any warning; this meant they had the approach codes. Zabaleta saw the out-processing captain working this out. A lieutenant and sergeant of marines marched through in quickstep. Zabaleta's cue.

"Lieutenant, your troop will take the Warder in custody. Compliments to Commander Williams, the Admiral desires that he be taken to London in irons for trial and eventual disposal, I mean disposition."

"Sir."

"Don't call me sir, Lieutenant, I'm only a gunnery CPO." _Is it the civilian clothes?_ The warder began progressing through the gate, destination a _Normandy_ cargo bay restraint.

"I wasn't aware there were Alliance men on _Overlord_ , gunny." Zabaleta, with an eye on the files of Alliance and Hierarchy marines, responded:

"There's a security troop, Lieutenant, for the Alliance gear in the hold."

Lawson and Toombs passed the gate on either side of the prisoner, scratch that, the medic. The lieutenant nodded. Zabaleta took his pistol out of the captain's face. Saluted. Waited, fingers twitching over holstered gun, till receiving a nervous salute in return.

"Then there's me. I'm the admirals' eyes and ears."

"Very well. If you don't mind, sir, you're the OIC to us." Zabaleta shook his head, and made his own way through the gate. Vakarian and Williams were approaching at a leisurely pace. Lawson seemed happier:

"Sorry this took so long. That's twice now, Garrus. Thanks."

"Better late than never," drawled Vakarian. "Williams here called me in."

"Thanks, Ash. You came through, Spectre, just on my hunch. Last time we had a warder problem, we shot him."

Vakarian inclined his head. _This was their second warder? Jesus._ Anyway, the boss seemed to have things under control. Zabaleta jogged on ahead, but Vakarian stopped the escort troop:

"A moment, please, lieutenant."

"Sir."

* * *

 _Sympathy for the devil_

Vakarian later wondered why he'd addressed the warder at all. Palaven had never lost the hierarchy the way even the most advanced human cultures had lost their jurisprudence. Even if that had happened on Palaven, turian culture hardly ever produced idiots in the wrong place. Yet he felt some twinge of sympathy, unlike anything on Purgatory.

"Prisoner, do you have a family?"

The (ex-) warder, still stunned, said: "Ahm… yes?"

"Son, I was a cop once."

Zabaleta, overhearing, found that interesting.

"You learn things no law course on criminal justice will teach. Right now you're caught up in crime control. Do you imagine you will get on the due process leg of the criminal justice system? There are no police anymore, anywhere except the Citadel; even C-Sec is mostly military. Earthside judges were indoctrinated, one and all. Every single member of the NAS and System Alliance Supremes has been shot, for example, along with most of the lawyers, worldwide. I know some human nations like Japan get by with very few lawyers, as we do on Palaven, but NAS had a _lot_ of lawyers – nearly a third of the congress and senate were lawyers. Those bodies are now inquorate. So, legislation is regulation. Except for the UK and its realms. Regulation and crime control are done in general by the military hierarchy, just like turians, and I know which generals are doing it. What does that mean for due process?"

"There isn't any?"

"No. Even for turians, the distinction exists. But it has a different flavor. You will at some point have a chance to step off the sausage machine. _One_ chance. The _Normandy_ is carrying flag officers who will review your case before transfer to the civil authority in London. Pray it's Admiral Hannah Shepard who deals with you. Do I have your attention?"

"Yes… General."

"Good. Listen for something like these words: ' _Do you want a hearing, or will you accept administrative action?'_ Got that?"

"Yes."

"Good. If you want to see your family any time in the next ten years, do not make excuses. Do not insist on your 'human' rights. They no longer exist, if they ever did, there's a lot of heated debate among criminologists about that, for one thing turians don't have the concept and for asari it means different things. In any event, all the theories still come back to crime control versus due process, and fleet admirals aren't interested in common-law theory. Just take what she gives you, and tell her the facts. She won't be interested in your subjective justifications. Clear? Tell her what happened, and ask for the camera roll, because trust me, Lawson will have had the cameras rolling."

"General… what can I expect?"

"If you're _very_ lucky… wait, did you have advance hard notice of the transfer?"

"There was a flimsy two days ago. But I didn't hear about the prison visit till last night."

"Did the transfer note mention a time?"

"Yeah. But it had to be a mistake. Next thing, this civilian waltzed up with the prisoner…"

"Was she still a prisoner? Did the note say _pardoned?_ "

The Warden stopped to think. The flimsy had spoken of… _Cerberus doctor to be released on her own recognizance…_

"Not in so many words. But it said she could go."

"Then throw yourself on the mercy of the tribunal, son. You've done what college professors, legislators, mayors, even kings and presidents have done before you. You've exceeded your authority. In your case, in the face of a direct order from a superior flag officer."

"Oh… crap."

"But maybe, just maybe, the Admiral won't act like the machine which law aims to be. You will get one call. Don't call a lawyer, JAG will appoint one if you need it. Call your wife, ask her to call the Admiral. Clear?"

"Yes. General."

"You won't get an answer, but she will hear about the call. What she does with that will depend on you. And your attitude."

"Sir."

"I'm not Sir, to you. Spirits go with you. Go now. Call your wife."

* * *

 _Next chapter: #41, "Between worlds"_

* * *

Saturday, July 25, 2015


	7. Between worlds

Road to nowhere, Arc 4 of "Gone with the Sun"

Chaprter 41 **Between worlds**

* * *

 _A foot on the ground_

 _Peacemaker_ , _Normandy_ , and _Overlord_ docked at the Citadel before sending their shuttles to Earth. Tevos had left the airlock with a spring in her step, off with Sparatus and Garrus to mend fences with the Salarians.

For all crews, it was time for a bit of shore leave. T'Soni headed for the Presidium, still a construction zone; Karin, Chloe, and Kelly close behind. Tevos would pick up Liara later.

Sanders and Miranda joined Ashley and Cortez, who would take Hackett on to Arcturus before running supplies out to the Exodus chain ( _"It's the steak and eggs run."_ ). Hannah escorted them all to Anderson's old apartment – now the favored _pied-à-terre_ of _Normandy_ -class commanders.

"How did this place survive?" Liara wondered out loud.

"In a way it didn't." Sanders was their guide here. "The whole Strip was vented when thirty thousand husks came. Only the casino and the arena are up and running again, so far. The place was mothballed and clamped. Most of the population was evacuated to the wards and almost the last act of the Presidium techs was to drop the atmosphere retention fields."

"What happened to the husks, cannibals, and whatnot?"

"They were exploded to space. The keepers restored the fields, but then the crucible dropped them again. It took a month to recover enough power to raise them at last. Meanwhile even the tech survived, mostly."

Conveniently, the apartment was rented out to the Alliance fleet by Anderson's estate. Sanders went upstairs, fossicking through some remnants of her life with Admiral Anderson (and muttering darkly about missing items of personal hygiene). Cortez began checking the Alliance News Net on the big screen, keeping the audio field tight, so long as Liara was practising _'Moonlight_ _'_ on the piano.

The medics looked around curiously at the multiple bedrooms. Chloe was fairly impressed. "So, _this_ is how Admirals live."

"I wish." (Hannah). "David got this on the proceeds of his salary as a Councilor."

Karin and Hannah brought out tea, coffee, and something fizzy in a glass for Kelly, who was lying back on a sofa with eyes closed. She'd kicked off her shoes and propped her feet on the table. Michel clucked disapprovingly and proffered the glass.

"Sorry, Chloe, my feet are just killing me."

Sanders gave her a bath bag full of… feminine things. "Here, pet. There's a spa pool upstairs. We'll get you clean and rested before the shuttle to Melbourne."

"I thought I was going to Russell."

"Not this time. Brynn's gone into labor, and you'll be next, quite soon. Huerta's still a war zone, with Silon in charge it's an organized war zone but still no place for you."

Kelly looked around. "Maybe I could have baby here?" Chakwas and Michel met this with a stern medical shaking of heads. Lawson, rolling her eyes, explained:

"Jacob's asked for Karin, there's _zero_ chance of the good doctors leaving you behind, and where you go Hannah goes."

" _(*Sigh*)"_

"Just weeks to go, sweets. Maybe days."

Liara turned. "That's unfortunate. I'd hoped to be around."

"Sorry, T'Soni. You and Tevos have to meet Bellerophon this evening at the dock."

Cortez sat next to Kelly and examined her feet. "Aren't your ankles swollen? Those feet look kind of gracile for the weight you're carrying. Who'd be a woman, eh?"

She gave him a rueful grin. "It's worth it, sometimes."

Miranda appeared at the top of the stairs. "Bath's ready. Come on, Chambers."

"But then you pay for it. That's a precious cargo, but it's a long haul."

Kelly began, slowly, getting to her feet. "That's okay. Maybe one day someone will share the tow."

Cortez watched her pick up the shower bag. "I think you could have your choice of more than just one. Wait up. There's no elevator to the top floor. Stand right there." He got up, cradled Kelly bodily ( _"Awk!"_ ) and carried her up the stairs, Michel watchfully following. "Right, this'll do."

"Very gallant. Thank you! Stop grinning, you lot. Wait up, Cortez." He got a peck on the cheek.

"Awww." (Michel). "Come on, bath then bed. Shuttle in the morning."

 _By any other name_

Hannah came up, having snagged herself a cold beer. "What's going to be the name of the boat? Something suitably martial?"

"No. I thought of continuing the _Normandy_ class theme but nothing suitable presents itself. So far I'm thinking _Lucen_ , or perhaps _Aegis_. I've got to make a decision before taking on stores, and that means before I head to the dock."

"Hm. _Aegis_ was Athena's shield. It had the Gorgon emblazoned on the front, not nice. Planners took names like _Overlord_ somewhat arbitrarily but the seaborne phase of the Normandy invasion was _Neptune._ A water god's name, maybe?"

"No thanks. I'm not calling it _Kalahira_."

"Come with me. Let's check out the possibilities." They moved to the library.

…

Cortez returned downstairs. Liara was now checking the extranet with Hannah.

"So, Bellerophon's your pilot? Funny name for a turian."

"Doesn't work like that, Steve. He's named after a character from olden times, that's a turian thing. _That_ hero gave his name to many things including a planet. Bellerophon's the human name for a similar planet so given some other features as well, the autotranslator net picked that as the closest to the turian."

Cortez nodded. "Ah well. It's a good name for a ship's pilot, anyway. Greek mythology."

Liara looked up. "Oh?"

"Rider of Pegasus. A winged horse. You know horse?"

"A horse is a primitive beast of burden, right?"

The Admiral shook her head.

"Er… in principle yes, Liara. But so is a water buffalo. Some say the myth's foundation in reality was a ship with sails, which looked like wings."

Cortez took that up. "A horse is accounted as a beautiful creature, Liara. A warrior's transport, except a special kind of horse – a unicorn – could only be tamed and ridden by a virgin female. Kind of appropriate. Got any unicorn names?"

This got a laugh from Hannah, then: "Wait, Pegasus rings a bell."

Liara had heard of horses, anyway. "Even unicorns… but Bellerophon? I thought the rider of Pegasus was… um… Perseus?"

Cortez was impressed. "Pretty good for a non-human, Doctor T'Soni."

"It's an archaeologist thing. I've read lot of human mythology. Not much of it stuck, but I can look it up if I recognize it on a tondo."

"Okay. Well for the Greeks, Perseus wasn't the rider, that was a later romantic accretion. Mythmaking in action. Bellerophon was the original."

"Got it!" Hannah stood up from the extranet terminal. " _Pegasus_ can be a _Normandy_ class name."

"How?"

"It's the code name for one of the bridges targeted during the invasion which gave its name to _Overlord_. That side took Pegasus bridge in a fabulous bit of military derring-do. The opposition was a régime which had enslaved most of Europe and put large numbers of folk in ovens."

" _Ovens!_ Actually, that rings a bell? I think I've heard about that. Appalling."

"No kidding."

"Wasn't that, um, centuries ago?"

"Right, but the conflict brought the biggest death toll in war – up to that point. It's still a defining event."

Liara considered this. "Pegasus bridge was a Commando mission? Low casualties?"

Hannah consulted the extranet screen again.

"Regular army, but airborne. Three glider platoons –"

"Gliders!"

"They were towed by bombers to within a few kilometres, Steve. The gliders made no noise at all which was important for a stealth night action, lots of fog of war, and this will make you laugh; the Pegasus operation was designated _Deadstick_."

"I don't think we're naming the ship after _that._ "

Liara looked confused.

"I should explain. A dead stick landing, to a pilot, is like what made us nearly crash on the Ardat-Yakshi planet, whatever it was called. Admiral?"

"That's classified."

"Shucks. Anyway, there's no motive power. For normal aircraft in those days that meant the wooden propeller stopped, a 'dead stick.' Okay? But of course _every_ totally normal glider landing is 'dead stick.'"

Liara did not look impressed. "That was bad security."

"Eh?"

"The name of the military operation gives a clue to its nature."

Hannah nodded. "Quite right. A lot of the operation names weren't vetted by the Allied security establishment, because _Overlord_ and _Neptune_ were so secret, their own spies weren't permitted to know about it. Fortunately, by that time the western allies had such complete command of the security sphere that their opponents never even got to hear of the names."

The door bonged.

"That'll be Tevos, Steven. Would you let her in, please? Liara, will _Pegasus_ do?"

"Appropriate for skyborne commandos. And for asari. I'll take it. Now please, please convince the Councilor."

* * *

 _Next chapter: #42, "Good Cop"_

* * *

Saturday, July 25, 2015


	8. Good cop

Road to nowhere, Arc 4 of "Gone with the Sun"

Chapter 42 **Good Cop**

* * *

 _A Little Wing and a Prayer_

Councilor Tevos was accompanied by Admiral Hackett. It turned out the apartment's VI knew them both; they were already walking in by the time Cortez got there. He lost no time telling both of the name choice, and listened with some interest as Hackett brought the Councilor up to speed.

"First things first, Dr T'Soni, have you notified the registry?"

"Yes Councilor."

"Then loading of personnel and supplies can proceed. Please get in touch with Lemaes." So while Liara was off on a rather lengthy video briefing, Hackett and Shepard were able to fill Tevos in on the background of the conflict which gave _Pegasus, Normandy_ , and _Overlord_ their names.

"They had to hold against an armored division just over the hill. The commanders led from the front and paid the price, but saved their men. _Exclusively_ men, in those days only the soviet empire had female combat pilots or troops."

"I _see_." _Anthropo_ _centric_ _bunch of dicks._

"Anyway, the Pegasus bridge was the scene of the opening shots of Operation Overlord. A combined-arms battle to take Europe back. A raid from glider transports called 'Horsa' would you believe. They dispersed the enemy garrison, seized Pegasus bridge and held against all comers including tanks and a gunboat coming down the river – until relief arrived."

"Sounds like something Shepard would do."

"More finely calculated, but the same doctrine. Surprise, stealth, precision application of great force from an unassailable or invisible position."

"Really? How, exactly?"

"Well, with the gunboat they shot the command bridge to pieces with a primitive spring gun, would you believe, firing shaped-charge grenades, and the gunboat grounded. A similar weapon took out the lead tank advancing in a counter-attack at night. A detail hid in the ditch and fired from twenty metres. It wasn't a rocket, so the infantry and tanks behind had no idea where the fire had come from – the projector was noiseless – nor that they were facing just two platoons. They backed off."

"Comprehensible."

"The regiment in question used a stylized Pegasus as their unit badge after that."

"I can see why T'Soni wants the name and the logo. I'll agree to it. But now I've got a bone to pick with you about the conduct of the military expeditions. They're too expensive."

 _War. What is it good for?_

"Councilor, I'm aware of the First Irune Trust report on the economy, but this is now a planned economy. If you want to understand why I'm spending so much treasure on infrastructure, it's because I fear what happens if some Reapers were shielded in some way. We have to have several strings to our bow."

"Isn't there a mini-crucible being developed?"

"Yes, but we still don't know precisely how it works, not quantitatively, so scaling it is a nightmare. I'm having trouble staving off the Russian and Chinese factions as it is. Together they outweigh the nations _I_ represent on the Alliance admiralty. If they didn't trust me more than each other, you would be speaking to someone else."

"Admiral, I don't see how that makes a difference. We could use the ships to repair the Citadel."

"Do the conduit chains first, or the Citadel will trap you. Again. On that the Russians, the Asians, and me all agree."

Hannah nodded. "It's the product of lessons learned in that war which produced the Normandy battles. If we can't do the low-casualty high-tech western way of war, the Russians and Asians will do their own thing, and against the Reapers I don't think that will end well."

"These Russians. I've met them, and the Chinese president. They don't seem so different. Were they on the side of the angels or the… others, in that war, Admiral?"

"Well… part of an international coalition against a centralized axis."

Hackett looked thoughtful; "Like the Reaper conflict, actually."

"As it turned out, yes, but the Reapers were a sudden blow. World War Two grew out of a series of smaller wars. They eventually merged into one global conflagration, but it started with a set of régimes who believed there was only room for themselves in Europe and Asia, partly because the soviet empire of the time wanted to make an end of _them."_

"Admiral, _h_ _ow many died?"_

The Councilor was clearly becoming upset. Cortez quietly moved to get a hot chocolate for her, and strained to listen.

"In the global conflict?"

Hannah Shepard consulted the extranet terminal again.

"Not less than sixty million, about evenly split between the European and Asian theatres of war. More if you count the indirect deaths, by famine say. About four percent of the world population at the time. Fairly typical for human wars."

" _Typical?!"_

Hackett took up the baton, at this point: "A thousand years ago, during the Mongol conquests, around half that many died over a century or so, but the world population was _much, much_ smaller so that was a comparable death rate. The Mongols actually depopulated central Asia. The Chinese had a few so-called 'rebellions' with truly astonishing death rates, like the Chimei, ten million dead in a nation of a hundred million souls, in the space of a little more than a decade."

"In the conflict we're concerned with, the second world war, those casualties were over an eight-year period," added Hannah. "The percentage deaths varied wildly by countries. Some were more victimized. Some were more prepared."

"Some were more _rational_ , I hope. Asari 'wars' were nothing like this."

"Well yes. The top leadership of the soviet empire at the start, and especially the axis nations at the end, weren't entirely sane."

"Also, they may have been uniquely evil but their world view was warped by a science which had only just discovered genetics and evolution by natural selection, confusing "fitness" with selection of domestic animals. Scientists quite improperly applied those to cultural evolution, thinking there was one people – their own, of course – more fit to survive than others."

"But Admiral Shepard, culture has no genes. Fitness depends on the environment, which changes. And you can all interbreed, you're all one species."

"No-one knew enough about genes, the environment seemed stable, and the unity of the species was denied. So if the dictators couldn't use a population they didn't like, they'd kill them on the spot, march them to their deaths or pack them in transports and take them to death camps, thinking themselves scientifically justified. "

"So a bit like the Reapers, the Collector base and their plans for the Citadel."

"A fair analogy. The Japanese co-belligerents waged biological warfare, just for starters. The Soviets exiled whole peoples several thousand kilometres from home."

"What about your own people? The western allies?"

"The capitalist West, with the 'invisible hand' theory, thought you can't tell who's fittest in advance. But no-one came out of that story smelling sweet. The British did nothing while a famine raged in India, to be fair the war cut grain supplies to the region so there wasn't a lot they _could_ do. But they didn't even do that, they needed the shipping for the war. They and the Americans developed a superweapon, fission bombs. The Americans actually _used_ it. To be fair there's a case that its use cut casualties in Operation Downfall by an order of magnitude. Except the British would have let the Soviets take the casualties, I suspect, instead."

"Idiots."

"The Americans or the British?"

"Yes. I'll bet it solved nothing."

Cortez didn't dare speak. Hannah did: "That's… a point of view. The bomb poisoned the next fifty years. But if we confine ourselves to the _Normandy_ war?"

Hackett agreed: "The so-called Second World War. Boris and Pyotr would call it the Great Patriotic War."

"That's because the soviet empire _alone_ lost _at least_ fifteen percent of the population. That's the current historical estimate."

" _Goddess_." The Councilor didn't look well.

"It's hard to be sure because of political bickering and the possibility that a lot of them died during internal purges, which were industrialized, with work quotas. For example, the chief executioner of the Lubyanka, the main Moscow political prison, typically set himself a _personal_ daily work quota amounting to one execution every three minutes. About seven thousand Polish victims in one continuous three-day away mission, still a record for mass murders by one individual."

Cortez wasn't too happy himself. This wasn't normally covered in school. Hannah quietly intervened. "Cortez, is that for the Councilor?" He had the hot chocolate in his hand, and hastily passed it over.

"Thank you, Lieutenant. Councilor, do be circumspect talking to the Mikhailoviches about this."

"It's still sensitive for them?"

"We suspect so. Their people had labor camps and death squads every bit as bad as the axis. Just less… efficient. The Germans and Japanese made better Stakhanovites."

"Is all that normal for human wars?"

"No. But there have been some shocking outliers. The Mongols, the Spanish in South America. The Japanese in particular hardly ever surrendered till almost the end, so their troops generally had to be slaughtered. Civilians killed themselves to the last woman jumping over a cliff with her baby. The worst is probably the Chaco war a century before, which killed off about ninety percent of the male population of one belligerent nation."

" _Goddess_. What about Operation Overlord?"

"That was the western theatre of operations. A technological war. Comparatively few civilians died, perhaps two to three percent of military."

"Still bad, but sane. And that's typical?"

"Yes. The invading western alliance, including the British whose troops took Pegasus bridge, fought a rational war with rational tactics from strong defensive positions – at least after the first shock of being attacked. After a fairly prolonged series of air and sea battles they had more or less denied the oceans and sky to the axis, and they never really lost that technical edge, so their industries and populations couldn't be significantly touched. At that point they took the offensive."

"More or less what you're planning to do to the Reapers."

"I could not possibly comment," responded Hannah Shepard virtuously and with a complete lack of conviction. "Remember, though, Mikhailovich's people had a different experience."

Hackett continued: "Until quite late in their history they barely had a navy at all, because their sea ports are blockaded by ice for half the year. The soviets, later the Russians and their clients, were at heart a land power like the Chinese. For both, traditional doctrine was to overwhelm an enemy through weight of numbers. If the soviet empire had got to Japan first there could easily have been ten million dead."

"So Mikhailovich doesn't agree with the celebrated Hackett circumspection?"

"That's what we're trying to tell you, and his influence in the Alliance command is considerable. But the Russians had to be more flexible than the Chinese, because their population balance and circumstances changed more."

"Dr T'Soni gave me the impression they built a navy and advanced tech because their enemies were the high-tech nations Hackett represents."

"Not quite. There were such threats, but it came specifically from common-boundary nations like the Swedes, Germans, Poles and Japanese –"

"I know of them. They were _much smaller_. Who was threatening who?"

"Both," said Hannah. "Each saw the others as a threat, which they were, but the way the game played out each side made it worse."

"But not Hackett's nations."

"More or less. Even when things were most tense, nations with sea boundaries were never actually silly enough to fight the Russians, and vice versa. Especially the English-speaking powers. Partly because they never claimed each others territory, partly because they traded, rather than fought – except by proxy; or on other people's soil, like the Crimean war; also, the anglophones actually outnumbered the russophones and were at least as victorious in war, but didn't care for the casualties. Most importantly, neither side's propaganda succeeded in completely dehumanizing the other."

"That sounds too sane to be true."

"It's a fact. Yes, they jostled for influence, but overall neither was a clear and present danger to the other. On the contrary, for example, three centuries ago the old USA wanted part of the North American continent, so they made a money offer for the Russian territories."

"The offer was accepted?"

"Right. The tsar had plenty of land versus not enough money. Later, they sold hydrocarbons, furs, steel, and ore for corn and finished goods. Over time, the anglos and slavs both noticed that despite trading insults along with goods, they tended to wind up on the same side in battles. And other nations, like the hispanics and Indians, traded too."

"Odd that. So Mikhailovich and Hackett aren't actually enemies."

"No, but there are disagreements. It's only Steven Hackett's success so far that has allowed him to prevail. You realise what would have happened after Shanxi, now, if you hadn't brokered the deal? We owe you a debt. So do the Turians."

"The Turians would have slain you all."

"Bet on it not. Remember, Earth's population was twice that of Palaven, most of it Asian. Russian or Chinese commanders would swarm whatever's left of the Reapers with hundreds of millions, perhaps billions, of troops. I don't _think_ that would work. But it might have worked against Palaven, given the edge in nuclear weapons."

"The Turians had nuclear weapons, too."

"No, Councilor, with respect, they do not and did not. We have yet to find a race which has the depth of knowledge and experience we have with them. Most technical civilisations have some form of world government by the time they figure out fission."

"The Krogan didn't."

"Look at Tuchanka. The Turian hierarchy never achieved advanced fusion weapons like we perfected two centuries ago, certainly not before space flight promoted kinetic strikes as alternatives. Palaven could have been Tuchanka, in spades. So could Earth."

"But it wasn't."

"We got lucky. It staggered me when I heard that the Illium matriarchs had spent billions on acquiring fission weapons. The first thing a western commander would do is use the cores to make two- or three-stage fusion weapons."

"What's a stage? And fusion? That's barely worth the extra manufacturing. You get a bigger bang burning a bit of deuterium or tritium, but barely twice the yield."

By this time Liara was back from sorting the supplies on _Pegasus_.

"Councilor, that was what I told you two weeks ago. I've since had to change my mind. Hannah is talking about an upgrade three orders of magnitude more powerful. That's just what the human superpowers were building two centuries ago."

"Goddess! Did the Turians ever do that? Did we? Did the _Protheans?_ "

"No, no, and Javik says no. We still don't know how it was done, but that they did it is indisputable. The craters in the Pacific alone are still there. We know the name of the design and broad principles of its construction, but Garrus thinks it would take not less than three years and a major diversion of industry to replicate, because the humans keep certain tricks of that trade a deep, dark secret."

Tevos shivered. So did Cortez. He poured himself a chocolate, too.

"These armies against the Reapers. Mostly Krogan?"

"Please Goddess, no. I don't think so – some finesse is indicated. Mikhailov has a hundred million troopers in cold sleep _right now,_ and if what I've heard is true, he'll only use humans. Though I don't know much about their training or equipment."

* * *

 _Next chapter: #43, "Night flight"_

* * *

Sunday, July 26, 2015


	9. Night Flight

Road to nowhere, Arc 4 of "Gone with the Sun"

Chapter 43 **Night Flight  
**

* * *

 _The lark ascending_

Liara waited by the dock gate with Coreen Lemaes as Coats approached with Bryson. They were almost the last passengers for the head of the Nest chain. They stopped just short and Coats threw a sloppy, happy salute. "Two more for the _Skylark_ , ma'am."

Liara turned to Ann Bryson. "How much?"

"He and Williams got into a stupid competition, I think it was five shots before Hackett came in and gave them the evil eye. I heard Williams say _whups_ and make like she was asleep at the bar."

"Nonsense, m'dear. She slid to the ground 'cos she can't hold her liquor. And 'm not on duty, evil eyes don't work on me."

Liara sighed. "If I have to notice this it will be bad. Do see him safely below, Ann."

"You can't notice me. 'M a colonel now. Staff rank, hey?"

"A civilian cat may look at a King, colonel, and _this_ uniform" – Liara tweaked the lapel of her very civilian business suit – "outranks anything military. Especially once you're on board. _Pegasus_ might be a civilian ship but _I_ am the captain. Go sleep it off."

"Got plenty of time to sleep later. Got months to sleep."

Coreen Lemaes was unimpressed. Ann Bryson did not look happy. But captain T'Soni resolutely failed to take offence. Coreen sighed a sigh.

"Dr Bryson. Get him to, um. The Engineering subwell. Let's see if he can work out where he is, and who he is, when he wakes up. Those two others, Liara?"

Another human and an asari were appearing in the middle distance from baggage claim. Ann turned as she gently urged Coats through to the airlock. "That's James Vega. I don't know the other one."

Liara looked up, distracted from her manifest. "Ah. Treeya Nuwani. A very young old student."

Vega was carrying his duffel over his shoulder, and a pack for a small asari with whom he was having an… animated discussion about baggage. They barely noticed Lemaes' presence till Vega bumped into her. He looked up in some surprise, not at all disconcerted by the stony glare.

"Hey, babe. Hi Liara, sorry, couldn't see you for the duffel. I think my footlocker's already aboard? We came on the _Normandy_ 's shuttle."

"So where's mine, you military clown?" Nuwani was not very happy.

"Hey, I'm not actually your flunky. My duffel was in baggage claim. You got me to carry this thing, I thought you'd filled out a baggage transit request too."

"You said last night you'd handle it!"

Liara inclined her head at Lemaes, who retreated to the gate's comm terminal.

"Was I drunk?"

"How should I know? You were as bullheaded then as you are now!"

"That's 'cos I'm still drunk."

Liara quietly let them be, arguing the toss of who said what; she vehemently suspected a Vega ploy. After half a minute, Treeya registered her presence.

"Dr T'Soni? What are you doing here?" – as Lemaes looked up from the terminal and gave a nod.

"This is the good ship _Pegasus_ , Treeya, Dr Liara T'Soni commanding. Is Mr Vega upsetting you? Or you him?"

" _Oh._ No," She put her hand to her mouth in embarrassment. "I'm so sorry, I saw _Pegasus_ on the boarding notice but had no idea it was Liara's. I only got the transfer request a day ago. This has been all very sudden."

"Not too sudden to be distracted by Lieutenant Vega, I see. James, I do believe you are drunk." Vega looked thoroughly unrepentant. "I think perhaps it would be best if you were to catch the next frigate. In, um, three days' time. That would be… _Overlord._ Oh good, that means you will be Miranda's problem." James gaped, looking altogether very sober. Liara rather doubted that he had ever been drunk.

" _And_ you can have a discussion with baggage claim about forwarding Treeya's footlocker. I'm sure Kahlee's apartment will be a comfortable stopover meanwhile."

Lemaes raised an quizzical eyebrow; she had already located the missing item. Treeya just looked very alarmed.

"No! I mean, I'll buy new clothes if need be from the commissary! I can do that, can't I? Don't put James off on my account."

"Are you _sure?_ " James was now merely looking apprehensive.

"Yes!" _Now_ Liara cast a glance at Lemaes.

"I spoke to a Steven Cortez, and he's sending the required item off now, ma'am."

"Very well, panic over. Vega. You and Nuwani here will bunk in the port cargo bay."

"What, together, Liara? I mean, ma'am?"

"Yes, Lieutenant. I'm sorry, but you two are the last to board, the crew bunks are all allocated. Unpack and show Nuwani here how to rig a restraint harness. I mean, crash webbing. You have," she consulted her omnitool, "around twenty-five minutes. _Move_ , Lieutenant."

* * *

 _Red light district_

Coats woke in a cramped toolspace, lit red to preserve actinic vision. He hadn't undressed and his restraint harness was still tight. From long practice his hand found the manual detent and unlatched the webbing without much input from a still-groggy ego.

 _God, how did I get here?_ Pieces of that last wild party stitched together as he pulled on his boots and took the elevator to the crew level, where he spent a few minutes cursing his headache, his stupidity, whiskey, alcohol intolerance, and naval toilets, not necessarily in that order.

"Coffee," he croaked at the _laevo_ service VI. It came, a default ristretto. He didn't care and retreated to the table. He was finishing it by the time Bryson passed by.

"Ann!" She turned. "Look, sit a moment, would you?"

"I'm getting tea. You look like you've had quite enough fluids."

"Would you deny a drink to a dying man?"

"Hmm. Let me think about that."

Laughing hurt. He got up and ordered tea, Earl Grey, no milk, by her side.

"Look, I'm sorry. _In vino veritas_ , and all that."

"Mm hmm. I didn't say no."

Coats' brow furrowed, trying to recall more detail. He'd been smitten by the xenobiologist since meeting her at Archer's lab, and pursued her in a necessarily sporadic fashion over the next few months. She seemed to enjoy the attention, but for some reason she was a very reluctant potential girlfriend.

She'd finally gone out with him just before his appointment to the _Orizaba_ by Hackett. He'd then made a fairly lewd proposition at a wild party after returning from the revelations and celebrations over Shepard at N-5. It probably hadn't gone well, but the annoying thing was that he couldn't remember the details, and nothing about her answer.

"You didn't?"

She shook her head, smiling. "Of _course_ I'll go Reaper hunting with you. In fact, I've been ordered to."

"Uh…"

"Let's get you and your tea back to your bunk. We've hours to go yet."

…

 _Hot bunking_

Bellerophon was smoothly guiding _Pegasus_ through waypoints to Mare Crisium and the L-1 relay when Liara came up and took the co-pilot seat.

"At least we don't have to stress about tracking space debris anymore." What remained was tracked centrally in a database the Pegasus VI consulted at each waypoint. Cislunar space was now repopulated with satellites; the shattered trash from the old ones was being steadily picked up by robot swarms, and most of all that was now in orbits lower than the Citadel.

"Once the Citadel's in a geosynchronous orbit there's really nothing between us and the moon."

For a variety of reasons short-term repairs were simpler in geosynchronous orbit. Once basic structural integrity had been restored these went much faster than anticipated, on account of the keepers. The downside was the keepers would without hesitation or notice raid construction materials stored for other projects.

"Tevos tells me the medium-term plan is to place the Citadel at the L2 point, well into Earth's anteumbra, so there would be shade – the Sun would oscillate through annular eclipses."

"I guess once relays with sufficient capacity are built it might be hauled back to the Widow nebula?"

"That would be an asari lifetime away, and I don't hear massive rumblings about that except from the Batarians." Bellerophon had a chuckle there. "They're too busy building B-21 to do more than flick the occasional ambassador our way by shuttle and complain."

This was perfectly true, but also somewhat undiplomatic. Liara changed the subject. "ETA for L-1?"

"Fifteen minutes, ma'am. I want to run the _Overlord_ waypoint track."

"On a maiden voyage?"

"I've taken it to L-2 on shakedown, ma'am. It was within centimetres of the aiming point when I took _Peacemaker_ through. It seems quite predictable and Coats is in a hurry to get to _Orizaba_. He's supposed to be on the skeleton crew."

"Alright. I don't think he's in _that_ much of a hurry, but you'd better sound for transit stations and restraints…"

…

"Oh, _bugger."_

"Well, come on then. It's probably a little late for me to go back to the crew level, don't you think? Buckle me in with you."

…

"Ma'am? Ann Bryson's webbing telltale is still red, but flickering. So is Treeya Nuwani's." This meant the bunks were not only unrestrained, but empty.

" _Perseus_ , commander's surveillance override." Liara checked the surveillance cameras in port cargo and subdeck stairwell.

"They're tight, Flight Lieutenant. Proceed."

* * *

 _Next chapter: #44, "Dust and water"_

* * *

Sunday, July 26, 2015


	10. Dust and water

Road to nowhere, Arc 4 of "Gone with the Sun"

Chapter 44 **Dust and water**

* * *

 _L_ _ife_

Melbourne was not quite as Shepard had imagined it.

For starters, it had been hit by a nocturnal kinetic strike, albeit just one; that had fallen in Port Phillip Bay, near what had been the Mud islands. Consequent blast effects had been accompanied by superheated steam, then mud and a tsunami as the Earth's crust reacted to the injury. Half the population was parboiled. Millions more suffocated in mud, night and fog. The entire shoreline for three to five kilometres inland had been efficiently sterilized along with their remains.

Today though, sun shone; there was blue sky and white fluffy clouds like on the Presidium ring, but real. Actual green was visible, growing along the shoreline. It had taken a few months, but it was there. So Miranda had stopped the shuttle first in a city centre razed to the tram tracks, exited, turned around taking in the nothing; then padded to the water's edge.

Examining plants recolonizing the sea strand took a mere two minutes. She looked up:

"Waypoint two, Jack."

* * *

 _Monster_ _Monitor_

Jack had taken the shuttle south-east a few klicks. Now Miranda stood wordlessly on a cracked concrete carriageway, gazing at a boxy mass of iron stranded some distance inland from the beach. Shepard eventually approached:

"Did you know this place?"

She looked back, shook her head.  
"Not well. I've been here before, though."

"Where are we?"

"This was once Half Moon Bay. One of many. Auckland had one, worse hit."

"Wouldn't be surprised." The one in California was a blackened ruin too.

By now Shepard had creakily exited the shuttle and come abreast of her standpoint. Jack cut the thrusters and stepped out too. They began to move towards the strange rusty box. It looked like an old bunker shell, except for two cylindrical top burdens. Shepard stole a sidelong look. Miranda was back to being grim.

"Bad memories?" This just yielded a resolute stare and the laconic observation:

"Not of here. This wasn't _my_ city. The Alliance is here because all the others of any significance in Oz are… _completely_ gone."

Indeed, much of the infrastructure in distant suburbs was still in place. There was a significant remnant population; some two hundred thousand adults. The people and the proximity to Hobart had been enough to make Melbourne the base for re-establishing industry on the continent. Looking inland, there were dust clouds. Distant construction noises.

"There are still trees on the hills. How come there's _any_ _thing_ left? Or anyone?"

Jack had been thinking about this too:  
"This happened in the last couple of days of the war, no?"

Miranda, a little absently, agreed:  
"Australians were a pretty mobile bunch. Too few people for such a huge place, you have to be prepared to get on your bike especially when fires come, and many did, instantly. A whole bunch fled the city within minutes when the Reapers first came. The kinetic strike got kids, the old, the frail, the stayers."

Shepard nodded. That sounded logical.  
"So, going by their usual _modus operandi_ , the Reaper strike had probably been intended as the first of a series, but the fleet interrupted them."

He began moving to the rusty oblong. Miranda looked skywards and remarked:

"In the southern hemisphere, it was pretty wintry by then, partly because of all the dust in the atmosphere. You didn't get the crippling hot temperatures even when it was summer. There were a lot of deaths from cold and exposure, though. The Alliance had to work smartly to get basic camps set up."

There were more than basic camps now. Some of the old infrastructure on higher ground, and in the shadow of hills, was still in place. The Alliance had taken over one of the old hospitals, in particular, and a bunch of prefab towns was springing up all around. Noting Jack and Miranda were trailing in his wake, Shepard remarked:

"So, anyway, no husking here?"

"Oh, there was, you bet. By the time the seasons turned, half the remaining population had crept back to pick the bones of the outer suburbs as far as Dandenong."

 _Sheesh. That's about ten klicks inland_. Jack stopped, folded her arms, and hissed:  
" _Crap_. Just in time for the Reapers to convert them?"

Miranda sighed, explaining: "They tried, but it was unusually difficult; most of the denizens were packing heat by then. Children generally died, but only two thirds or so of the remaining adults had been husked." Miranda was looking sadder now, survival of a few locals notwithstanding. Shaking her head, she continued:  
"We should bugger off to the hospital. Kelly's expecting you, John."

"Wait up. We have a little time." Shepard put a hand against the rusting upturned steel:  
"What was _this_ thing?"

"Warship," declared Miranda. Her hand rose against the hull, alongside his. "Ancient _Monster_ -class coastal defence monitor. Powerful, slow, shallow-draft. Decrepit thing sunk as a breakwater, then a museum piece. Tsunami pushed it here."

 _Something_ _'_ _s very wrong here_ , thought Shepard, withdrawing. Miranda's hand stayed. She sounded distant, or distressed. Shepard moved close behind, asked carefully:

"Those steel cylinders?"

"Carried huge guns in turrets. Didn't have to fire broadside. Innovative. The first completely steam-powered ship in the old Royal Navy, oddly enough. Bit of a milestone."

"Damn peculiar looking ship," mumbled Jack, clearly not impressed. Miranda turned back:

"Even when it was new, yes, three centuries ago." There were tears in her eyes. She added:  
"So much for defending the frontiers. Jack, Shepard; may I present to you Her Majesty's Victorian Ship, _Cerberus_. Says it all, really."

 _Cry me a river_

This time, Kelly was in bed. Shepard sat alongside, observing:  
"Last time, _I_ was the one in bed feeling shredded. "

She did have a strained expression, despite recent pain relief; eyes semi-closed.  
"Bit of a reversal, yes, Mister man. Though, Chloe says everything's ' _nominal_ '."

"I'd get in and cuddle, but there's already two of you in there."

"Psh." The feeble attempt at humor brought a feeble but real smile. "I feel like a stranded whale. It's like some ancient horror vid where an alien takes over your carcass and converts it to more aliens."

"Sorry. That would be me, I guess."

"I don't remember complaining." _Slight grin_. "Thirty seconds in paradise, that's what I remember. Or maybe it was the second time, lasted a bit longer. Now I'm just this bloated construction site, and the larva is beating me up from the inside."

"And it's taking a lot longer than thirty seconds. How can you stand to look at me?"

"Kiss me." He complied. She _was_ looking at him properly now.

"I must have put on twenty kilo. There's rumbling and grumbling like old water pipes deep inside me. There's an industrial-scale plumbing re-arrangement, I have to pee every couple of hours. It just goes _on_ and _on_. But you're here, for now. It helps."

He reached up and stroked the hair around her temple. Kelly turned her face further into the pillow, closed those green eyes, murmured: "You can keep doing that."

Shepard noted with some surprise that indeed, he could. It had been less than two weeks. He was still spectrally thin, but stronger. He could lift his arm to stroke his girl's hair. That was new.

"Stars above, but you're beautiful." She opened her eyes again, slightly indignant:

"Are you kidding? My lips are a bit too red and swollen, I've got acne and _mmph_ –"  
This smooch took a lot longer. On release she held his gaze.

"Trust me on this. It's evolution in action, I think. Doesn't matter."

"If you say so. But it seems perverse."

Suddenly her eyes grew round. "Whoa!"

"More kicking?"

"Call Karin and Chloe. I've just felt a river come out between my legs."

 _Fission_

Chakwas was assisting Chloe Michel (" _I don't have much experience with the start of life, Shepard. More with the end."_ ) They'd unceremoniously booted him from theatre, till he could be scrubbed and dressed in steriles.

Baby was apparently coming a little early.

Kelly did not look good, when he left; crow's feet appearing in the corner of her closed eyes. Labor pain and effort were well on the way to exhausting her, or so it seemed.

Ten minutes later and Dr Kerry expressed satisfaction with his steriles. Michel waved him back in just as his mom and Brynn arrived: Jacob was looking after little Stella. He had to go before he could give more than a hurried précis of events. Mom seemed to be fairly composed about it all ( _"I've been through it myself, John. Go now."_ )

 _She refused an epidural_ , muttered Chloe as he entered, clearly not happy about that.

Kelly's eyes were tight closed and face very pale, though still responding to encouragement to _push_. His own blood pounding in his ears, John asked Chakwas:

"Are you going to need a Caesarian section?"

"Apparently not even an episiotomy. She started out with an athlete's condition, and a lot of women have a much worse time. That's why we've called you in. Labor's been underway for only two hours and the baby's already 'crowning.'"

"She looks at the end of her tether." He wasn't feeling too good himself.

"It takes a lot out of a woman, Commander, but trust me I've seen much worse. _Push_ Kelly, it's coming." And indeed a somewhat purple bulbous mound was appearing. He took her hand, which tightened around his surprisingly hard. Her eyes opened a little with a quivery smile. "I blame _you_ for this, Shepard."

"You've been talking to Jack. But I blame me, too." ( _Push, Kelly_.)

" _Ngrrrgh._ Wouldn't have it any other way. _Ahhh!_ "

"Here it comes, girl. _Push!_ " And now it was all happening very fast. A bright purple wrinkled loose face appeared quite quickly, first eyes, then nose. Chloe took the head in latex-covered fingers and pulled lightly. " _Push, again, come on, just a little more."_

All at once the purple blob became a baby, one shoulder, two shoulders, legs, _mess! So much blood!_

"Congratulations." (Chakwas). "It's a girl!" (Michel).  
That was the last thing Shepard remembered before waking up on the floor.

 _F_ _u_ _sion_

A moist towel had brought him around. That and lying flat on the floor for a few seconds, Chakwas holding his legs in the air, feet up to her armpits, restoring blood to brain. She was irritatingly ebullient about the whole business.

His mother came in and didn't know whether to laugh or cry, she said. Michel was more upset:  
" _I'm so sorry Shepard, I should have thought more about your injuries."_

He'd never live that down, but didn't care. He'd been more concerned about Kelly. Still, although clearly very tired, she was awake and smiling.

Michel had cleared the child's nasal passages and this little wrinkled monkey face was now, to all appearances, asleep. Or at least, the eyes were closed.

"What's her name?" – asked Mom.

They'd been thinking about what to call this new person swaddled in white cloth against her mother's chest, but only settled on a girl's name yesterday. Kelly glanced up at him. He nodded.

" _Hannah, meet happiness_ _._ Felicia."

* * *

 _Next chapter: #45, "Influence"_

* * *

Sunday, July 26, 2015


	11. Influence

Road to nowhere, Arc 4 of "Gone with the Sun"

Chapter 45 **Influence**

* * *

 _Spin_

 **Diane** **Allers** : Commander Shepard. John. First, may I say welcome back.

 **John** **Shepard** : Thank you Diana. It's as though I never went away.

 **Diane** **Allers** : Speaking of which, I gather you weren't clinically dead this time.

 **John** **Shepard** : There was the occasional dream, so I guess not.

 _Show and tell_

Garrus still thought about improving security in the apartment, but Kahlee was concierge of the house, now. She had what amounted to a peppercorn lease from the executor of Anderson's estate.

This would ordinarily have made the executor liable for common-law breach of trust, but the executor (in his other capacity as Admiral of the Fleet) had organized for Kahlee to administer the place as lodgings for nominated fleet personnel. Her wages were easily offset by the contract income, with a suitable profit to the estate. This did mean she had to supervise 'suitable' media events, like this meet-the-galactic-hero show for the reporters.

The whole setup stank of Lawson scheming, but it seemed to fill a need.

 _Doctors_

 **Diane** **Allers** : What _were_ you dreaming?

 **John** **Shepard** : I can't remember much. Do you remember your dreams?

 **Diane** **Allers** : Not often. It was worth asking. I won't intrude, then.

 **John** **Shepard** : It's OK. I do recall one at the hospital, after the Cerberus coup.

 **Diane** **Allers** : That sounds sad.

 **John** **Shepard** : Mysterious, disconcerting, and usually unpleasant.

 **Diane** **Allers** : Apparently, people don't usually remember dreams if they're not woken within a short time of having them.

 **John** **Shepard** : My doctors thought they were coma dreams.

 _Si vis pacem_

What a Kahlee-Châtelaine meant in practice was that man-traps and sentinel guns were a no-no. The most she'd unbent to allow was a hidden arms locker.

Given that inch, Garrus had taken a couple of miles. He and Jack reverently laid the second M-920 Cain and a Widow in their racks, taking care the power cells were safed. That done, they went down for chocolate (in Jack's case, with added whiskey).

 _This magic land_

Sanders was shooing five of Jack's kids around like a mother hen, teaching the making of _roux_ – a white sauce. Good reality vid stuff for Allers. Got ratings, odd that.

Al-Jilani had done an interview with Sanders in the room briefly shared with "Councilor Anderson". An oddly gentle interview. Fairly heartbreaking actually. Today the place was also occupied by himself, Lawson, Williams… and a bunch of other reporters.

Most wanted to know All About Shepard, but there were great big don't-go-there-yet warnings from the Council, the hierarchy _and_ Hackett. So Garrus didn't, and they didn't.

Anderson had become a cult hero. So others, strangely, were there to find out all they could about the decoration of the apartment. How bizarre. Half the houses on Palaven had crumbled, and there was QEC bandwidth available to titillate with Citadel housing? Kahlee took care of them too, on special priority. Civilization had gone insane.

Mind you, Garrus had picked up some interesting vibes from the All-Turian Newsmaster syndicate's Modern Living reporter. Way too young for him. Vibes got stronger. He had thought Michel would kill him. Surely? Not her:  
 _Get_ _her a drink. Go on, you can both go to the Casino_.

So he did, and they did. Mmm.

 _W_ _hat's not was meant to be_

 **Diane** **Allers** : Have you been getting fan mail yet?

 **John** **Shepard** : No. I don't think I have a public extranet account anymore.

 **Diane** **Allers** : I suppose the old one was retired.

 **Hannah** **Shepard** : Offline after the first ten terabytes. And that was just the _text_.

 **John** **Shepard** : Apparently I have a military account but I've barely checked it since I woke a few days ago. For a while I could barely type. I had an assistant till yesterday.

 **Hannah** **Shepard** : She's been reassigned. We'll get you a VI.

 **John** **Shepard** : It won't be EDI.

 **Hannah** **Shepard** : No. Cope.

 **Diane** **Allers** : Um…

 **Hannah** **Shepard** : The address? Depends. See me afterwards.

 **John** **Shepard** : Er…

 **Hannah** **Shepard** : Deal with it.

 **Diane** **Allers** : About EDI…

 **Hannah** **Shepard** : No.

 _E_ _nd of the beginning_

None of them were supposed to be here, but the frigates were stuck at the docks.

Mission timetables called for three of the _Normandy_ class to fly the Cronos chain today. _That_ was derailed by Kelly and Brynn popping a couple of days apart. So now, there was nothing to do, except play the casino or the arena. Fine for the crews but the Primarch had lined Garrus up for turian/asari/salarian social functions. Diplomatic duty, faugh.

The apartment also hosted the inevitable, if hollow, _human_ party for Shepard and Jacob… Garrus had to be there, but the Admirals, Doctors, even Chambers and Brynn, were conspicuous by their absence after ten minutes.

A disgruntled Garrus felt like he was going around in circles. Miranda too seemed a little subdued on returning from Melbourne. Fairly chipper once it had been made known that John Shepard was expected on-scene when the frigates began sniffing around Pax and Anadius, but still a bit moody.

Williams, on the other hand, was exuberant. Diplomacy meant career brownie points.

Shepard, poor fool, remained stuck with reporters pending departure on _Overlord_ for 'parts unknown.' Following advice from Hannah, first up was a terribly serious interview with Jilani about Thessia's fall, then his and Anderson's run through Vancouver, then another with Allers about… he wasn't sure what that had been about.

 _Spinning¹_

 **Diane** **Allers** : So you have other duties now?

 **John** **Shepard** : I no longer command the _Normandy_. Time to pass the torch.

 **Diane** **Allers** : To the other Spectre, right. You're retiring?

 **John** **Shepard** : Not likely. Leave the service before my mother? Not a good look.

 **Diane** **Allers** : I do believe that's an 'old-fashioned look' you're getting from your Mom.

 **John** **Shepard** : Yeah. I'll pay for that later. Perhaps a short rest is in order.

 **Hannah** **Shepard** : Glad to hear it.

 _A cripple taught me_

Meanwhile, they all had to wait on T'Soni.

 _Pegasus_ equalled Joker's record coming back down the Nest chain when Liara heard Kelly had gone into labor. Bellerophon was being insufferably smug, despite not having her back quite in time for either the event or the party.

That set Garrus' teeth on edge. He still couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to Chambers than had so far been broadcast. Yet, the Shadow Broker had no doubts at all.

 _Spinning_ _²_

 **Diane** **Allers** : There's still a lot of fear out there.

 **John** **Shepard** : Contrary to popular belief, the fate of the galaxy never depended on me.

 **Diane** **Allers** : That's not what the the asari Councilor said. She speaks for many.

 **John** **Shepard** : I've been privileged to know commandos, generals, and grunts – turians, salarians, krogan and asari as well as humans – who could have taken my place.

 **Diane** **Allers** : But can they kill Reapers?

 **John** **Shepard** : Yes. They covered themselves in glory at the London beam, bringing down the one blocking the way.

 **Diane** **Allers** : You were there, though.

 **John** **Shepard** : So was Anderson. Our armies have had practice now.

 **Diane** **Allers** : And they knew you were there.

 **John** **Shepard** : Look, the Reapers were defeated by a civilization, not by me, or Hackett, or the Council. You owe that to the teams we led, the ordinary citizens who toiled to give us the wherewithal to fight, the insight of the scientists and engineers who built the crucible and…

 **Hannah** **Shepard** : _Ahem_.

 _Come d_ _ance along with me_

Shepard hadn't been terribly happy about the prospect of leaving his family on what, orders aside, amounted to a treasure hunt. Garrus could relate. He himself had only been able to communicate by QEC text with his dad, who was taking that badly. If not for his sister's presence there, it would have been worse.

Chakwas _had_ taken pains to make clear that Chambers would need rest and care, that she could do without him for some days; both Hannah and Chloe would be on scene. _"Nothing to worry about, Shepard,_ " she said. _"_ _B_ _ack in a week."_

" _Uh huh,"_ said Williams. _"Yeah, right,"_ said Lawson _._ Garrus just snorted, _Hmph_.

It must have been hard, nonetheless. For the good of the Service, Shepard was torn away from his child. Scuttlebutt was, precisely this sort of thing was the cause of difficulties between Shepard and his girl.

Girl, not wife.

In point of fact, the father of Chambers' child had been dispatched on active duty six hours after his first child was born, sort of underscoring the point.

Garrus could sympathize; turian marital institutions in some ways resembled ancient Rome's, thoroughly monogamous. So bad things happened when military service separated partners. It _could_ be complicated by property issues, perhaps. _Was this situation like turian marriage?_ Just like in Roman times, especially if partners were of different citizenship tiers, their families argued over who got what.

Formal marriage could end badly through no fault by either partner in so many ways, of course. _Even so: any other female in the galaxy would have grabbed Shepard with both hands_.

Not Chambers – a suspicious non-event.

Chambers simply didn't seem to think Shepard was hers to grab. _Property issues_.

 _Spinning_ _³_

 **Diane** **Allers** : So there _are_ other superweapons?

 **John Shepard** : Not a huge crucible. If you start thinking in such terms, you will go astray. Beyond that, I personally know very little and am not at liberty to discuss.

 **Diane** **Allers** : But you have plans…

 **Hannah** **Shepard** : Many plans. Much preparation. They are not the subject of this interview.

 **Diane** **Allers** : It doesn't matter, Admiral. That you have plans is important, not what they are. Some assurance that Bekenstein, or Earth, or Palaven, or Thessia, won't happen again. Or, at least, that we can fight back.

 **John** **Shepard** : Oh yes. That's what I've been trying to tell you. This time last year, there was a sort of paralysis of fear. Now there are heros walking among you with blood in their eye and an absolute conviction that they will prevail. That is what makes the difference. You will see.

 **Diane** **Allers** : And there you have it, folks. Signing off now. Not from the Battlespace; here there is a little space for peace, for now. Good night, and good luck.

 _Guided by the master's hand_

So far, the talking-head stuff was all about ongoing Reaper threats, and what Garrus considered an overly-dramatic documentary about the firing of the crucible (certain details elided).

None of Shepard's personal life had made it into the interviews. Yet. Which was odd, because at least two of the reporters most certainly knew the essential details.

It was surely only a matter of time before Shepard's mini-family hit the headlines. The extranet would explode. In Allers' case her silence was comprehensible. She almost counted as crew. Garrus still didn't know how Al-Jilani had been co-opted and didn't dare ask. Maybe she hadn't. _It might come down to trust_.

Liara had gone to see Chambers down in Melbourne, with Tevos, after communing with Shepard, Shepard's mother and Hackett. Garrus had thought of going but Hannah said _later_. The new mom really did need rest.

Garrus fervently hoped Kelly was on the side of the angels. _Tevos, T'Soni, the Admirals? Who else has such friends?_

With influence like that… and let's not forget Shepard, who might be fragile _now_ , but one day…  
 _Spirits_ , what kind of child would theirs be?

* * *

 _Next chapter: #46, "Field recovery"_

* * *

Saturday, July 25, 2015


	12. Field recovery

Road to nowhere, Arc 4 of "Gone with the Sun"

Chapter 46 **Field Recovery**

* * *

 _M_ _ake and Mend_

By now the Citadel was established at Earth's second Lagrangian point, with a pair of its own frigate-capable conduit relays. "Inbound" (E-2) linked back to E-1, the primary Earth conduit, in geosynchronous orbit. The stealth frigates would _not_ be taking that. Theirs was an outbound supply run; their holds were full, not least of real food. Accordingly, _Normandy, Peacemaker,_ _Pegasus,_ and _Overlord_ headed for the Citadel's _outbound_ conduit E-3, linking to E-4 in orbit around Pluto. E-3 could also link to L-2, also a Pluto relay, at short notice if E-4 were down for maintenance.

So far that had not been necessary, and at approximately four-minute intervals (heavy loads) they filed out of E-4 in alphabetical order (much to Yoof's annoyance, but Toombs had said _Don't even_ think _about it_ ). Twenty minutes later they passed S-1. All were unstealthed for now; no-one wanted to risk a collision, however unlikely.

On the other hand, running the first few links on the chain to the Horsehead Nebula was now considered routine; crash restraints were not called for. Accordingly, informal groups gathered around commissary tables, played cards, and chattered.

The pilots and co-pilots were able to keep up an amiable chatter of their own at zero risk of interception. TBS was fairly busy as the "boats" left S-2 and approached H-1, the start of the Horsehead chain.

"Talk Between Ships" was not radio; each TBS set contained two QEC nodes, so paired with two other TBS sets. A flotilla's TBS sets could thus be looped; information originating at one vessel would eventually pass through the TBS of the destination vessel. That network protocol was centuries old, technically a token-passing ring.

Meanwhile in the _Overlord_ lounge, crew were continuing training:

– Goldstein, assembling a compact M-11 pistol under the watchful gaze of Toombs.

– Prangley was carefully putting the finishing touches to a satin-varnished wooden box for it, laminating green baize against a polystyrene mold.

– Hadley had spent some time with a fab unit, creating a gun harness and clip for the gun just like Miranda's stylish gear, but for a slightly smaller person.

Goldstein finished first.

 _High fashion_

Toombs watched the kid carefully wipe the blued surface with gun oil, then a dry cloth, and set it down on a square of baize.

"Have you ever used this one in a real fight, sir?"

"It's not mine, Jenny, but as it happens, yes. Why?"

"I thought I knew about these, sir, but this has some ceramic, sintered tungsten and titanium parts where I was expecting vanadium and nickel steel."

"Good eyes, kid," said Hadley. "It's lighter, no? Supposed to be a heavy pistol, but…"

"Sure. It has a floating barrel now, beautifully balanced. It could be a target pistol. Also… the power bus has a room-temperature superconductor element. That's not standard, and it's godawful expensive. This tiny thing could do real damage."

"It did. In Shanghai," reminisced Toombs.

"It's semi-silenced, sir…"

"It was a holdout pistol to get me past bad guy security so I could let the others in."

"I thought that was illegal?"

"No-one was left to complain. And if rules like that prevent me from doing my job, I'll keep doing it till they make me stop. That's the Bailey philosophy, young lady."

Finally, Hadley finished, and Prangley's curiosity got the better of him.

"Who's this pseudo-leather _for_ , sir?"

"It's for the owner of the gun, Jason. And no, I'm not telling. It's a present. Name's on a need-to-know basis at least till she gets it."

"So the box is for her too? There's no room for the harness."

"Prangley, think." (Goldstein)

"She might wear the belt with a different gun, Jason. Mind you, with this person that's not likely. But we can make the belt a separate gift. Goldstein, can you try it on? You're about the right size."

"Sir."

The harness did fit well, but… "It really needs a skinsuit, doesn't it."

"Yep." (Lawson)

 _L_ _ow slung_

"Captain on deck!"

"Relax, everyone. Jenny, not you, stand at attention over here."

Miranda's vulture circuit was a little disconcerting but a little flattering too.

"Mm. Richard, can you do another of these for Jenny?"

"I actually did a spare set of parts, captain, in case I stuffed up. I only have to secure and mold them together."

"Good man. Do you have time?"

"I'd help." (Jason Prangley).

"Thank you. Jenny, go off duty and come with me for a bit."

She followed Miranda to the lift, then the loft. "John, are you decent?"

The door opened. Brevet Captain Shepard stood in track pants and an N7 hoodie, holding a small blue dumbbell in one hand. "Just finished, actually. Evening, crewman."

Lawson pulled a set of plastic packs from the bottom of her armor locker and opened them to reveal a couple of skinsuits, one white, one black.

"Try on the black one."

"Are these your old ones, Ms Lawson?"

"It's Miranda, in here. And no, I got these for my sister when she was younger. She never had the chance to put them on. Maybe never will, now."

Shepard looked very concerned. "You haven't heard from Oriana?"

"Not a peep." She wore a tight face again. "I was going to ask to visit Noveria. Then I'll know. Maybe she couldn't get to a QEC."

"Noveria! I thought you'd have her squirreled away somewhere on the Citadel, after that business on Horizon."

"The Citadel was legally dodgy until I became useful to Hackett, and a dangerous place with Cerberus still in business. Also it was going to be a Reaper target. Mainly, I wanted her somewhere that wasn't in Citadel space, where we could both hide from anything like law or the mob."

"And Noveria Development Corporation was it?"

"Yes. Port Hanshan."

"I'll go with you. We're passing by on the way to Cronos anyway. We should look into Firebase White also. Might be remains."

Miranda stared at him. "That's… very kind, John. But no."

"Is this still something you have to handle by yourself?"

"Wouldn't have it any other way. But mainly, you won't be ready for _months_. _"_

Shepard sighed. He wasn't going to win this, and Goldstein was looking back and forth between them. "Anyway, I can shower off later. Shall I go get coffee?"

"Yeah, do. Let us know when you're back, I'll want your opinion. Come on, Jenny. Let's try these on you."

Some time later Shepard and Lawson escorted Goldstein, now wearing the black skinsuit, back to the lounge. When they entered, everyone's jaw dropped. Toombs clapped. Hadley looked in shock at first, but recovered fast and emitted a wolf-whistle.

Goldstein blushed furiously, but otherwise kept her composure. Jack grinned.

"Mr Toombs, the _white_ suit should be presented along with the harness."

"Yes, _ma'am_. Captain Shepard, you couldn't get me another couple of those little guns, could you?"

"Something might be arranged, Toombs. Meanwhile, crewman, do wear that one."

* * *

 _War_ _and Pax_

Following the installation of the very last H conduit relay a matter of days previously, the planet Veles had an incoming relay at the south pole and an outbound (to Anadius) relay at the north.

There were some significant fleet elements at the Pax relay, including two cruisers. It had taken them nearly a year to lay relays and ready a probe of Pax and Anadius.

At the end of this mission the cruisers would be mothballed in place and the crews evacuated by shuttle and frigate. It would take four months to deploy back to the citadel. Better to get back the trained crews and build another ship using plentiful Eezo cores still in Earth parking orbits.

The frigates first offloaded half the supplies and _matériel_ for the flotilla from their maintenance holds to the cruisers, reducing their mass by nearly a fifth and clearing a runway for the Kodiak shuttles.

At that point they _could_ have proceeded to Anadius as planned. Didn't happen.

Shepard called a conference of military officers on the Alliance cruiser _Nairobi_ – this meant Lemaes, Zabaleta, Garrus himself, and Williams. There were some issues.

"Gentlemen, there has been a slight change of plan. We will first proceed with one cruiser making like a rock towards Noveria, while two frigates – _Overlord_ and _Peacemaker_ – send away teams to Lagrangian points, just in case something's hiding."

 _Nairobi's_ captain demurred: "I haven't heard about this, Commander, and can't approve. We were told to remain in silent running."

"It's Captain, Captain. As of two days ago. I appreciate the difficulty, and have orders for you." Shepard passed over a paper envelope containing a hologram of a holograph written by the Admiral of the Fleet… _and_ countersigned by the human Councilor.

The captain of the Nairobi perused the orders and placed them back in the envelope with an air of resignation.

"May I enter the digital ink in the ship's log, Captain?"

"Please do."

Normally, sealed orders were paper, not digital ink, and destroyed after reading unless special circumstances existed. These, being a digital holograph, were a revision intended as a permanent record.

"Will you be assuming command on board this cruiser, Captain?"

"No. You know your ship best. My intention is that you support the ground teams, which will not include me, as your military judgment dictates. I will be co-ordinating frigate actions. I hope not to need fire support such as the loads we just delivered, _but_ there may be remnant Reaper opposition."

"So, the _Nairobi_ looks like it's dragging a broken wing…"

"Exactly, and one frigate accompanies it to above Firebase White. Others take up station while stealthed, ready to inflict Sakharov mines, directional gamma nukes, and whatever else might help if a Reaper destroyer erupts from the ground."

"Is that likely, Captain?"

"We think not. Theory says the Reaper sapient constructs were uniquely vulnerable to the soliton grid generated by the crucible and mass relays as they died."

"But it can't hurt to allow the Reapers to think our reconnaisance force is weak, right?"

"Just so. They may be tempted to show themselves, to put an end to a derelict cruiser and a tiny frigate. If so, you are to engage as best you can, but should opposition be so heavy as to risk the ships, they are to leave the system and rendezvous at Anadius. Clear?"

"Absolutely."

"Have you detected any radio activity in-system?"

"No, Captain, we have not. Not even automated beacons. But the NDC may have slaved them to a VI which only powers the beacons when it detects Council ships."

"Very well. You have the movement orders. We go in one hour."

* * *

 _Next chapter: #47, "Learning experiences"_

* * *

Sunday, July 26, 2015


	13. Learning experiences

Road to nowhere, Arc 4 of "Gone with the Sun"

Chapter 47 **Learning Experiences**

* * *

 _Falling leaf_

Fighter pilots are by temperament a bit flaky. Old-style bomber pilots have to consider the lives of their buddies as well as their own, and most cruiser pilots are similarly a little more reserved. Not _Nairobi's_ pilot, who used to fly antique acrobatic biplanes for a hobby, and fancied himself in one of the new frigates, much to his Captain's annoyance.

" _I am a leaf on the wind; watch how I soar_."

"Can it, Flight Lieutenant, there's no wind in space, and that ended badly for the pilot."

"Come on, boss, don't you know how liberating it is to have all the safeties and the VI off? I tell you it takes _artistry_ to look like you're damaged when you're not. At least in something this size."

"Fine, but be an artist a little more slowly, this ship is still new and I don't want the paint scratched. Also, I don't think the forward pickets are in place yet."

In fact they very much were. _Peacemaker, Pegasus_ and _Overlord_ had crept in toward the feeble light of Pax, a K0 yellow dwarf, while the _Normandy_ shadowed the cruiser _Nairobi_ , making like a rock on a rock, discharging its drive core directly into a 60km diameter asteroid, as though it had just arrived after a long and painful FTL hop.

Phase two had started; the cruiser's migration in-system to Noveria's L2 Lagrangian point. Very slow, very unstealthy, painful-looking… and boring. The pilot was playing Debussy's _Clouds_ in the cockpit – a good choice. _Let it be; he'll get a surprise soon_.

Each frigate had different tasks. _Pegasus_ and _Overlord_ took up station at Noveria's L4 and L5 Lagrangian points, each a sixth of the way around the system. Passive scans had revealed nothing at all, which itself was a great big something in this system.

TBS crackled to life on _Peacemaker_ , sitting with stealth _off_ at the L1 point between Pax and just above Noveria, over the horizon from Port Hanshan.

" _N_ _othing at_ _L5."_ (Shepard, on _Overlord_ , not in the co-pilot's seat but strapped into the gunnery officer's seat behind the Thanix cannon, before the threat map.)

" _Likewise, nothing at L4."_ (Liara, in the co-pilot's seat on Pegasus). So. It would fall to _Peacemaker_ to run the first active scan.

"Right. Nyrek! Ready for subsonic speed in-atmosphere. Let's drop our pants."

"Yes, _sir_." Nyrek wore a bloodthirsty turian grin as he pressed one of his console's actual Big Red Buttons, except this one was white:

 _PING_

 _Coo-e_ _ee_ _!_

The _Nairobi's_ pilot killed the ambient auditory simulators and looked at his Captain with a wild surmise: "Ye cats! Sir, they could have heard that on the Citadel!"

"Don't forget, frigates are the eyes and ears of the fleet, pilot. They've had a scanner upgrade, the Argus advanced scanner array."

"Argus? The gun?"

"No. It's beyond me why they named a gun Argus, but for a scanner it's rational. If you look it up you'll find Argus the all-seeing on the extranet. A _Normandy_ -style scanner uses neutrino chirps. As a side effect they do an extremely sharp lobed electromagnetic pulse. It lights up heavy metal deposits, and Eezo, like a Christmas tree. Those fins are, besides airfoils, detector plates."

The pilot considered this while tracking _Peacemaker's_ descent to the troposphere.

"So why the hell are we bothering with stealth if the first thing we do when we get to the planet is ding a great big dong?"

" _We_ haven't rung the gong, pilot. Just one ship has. And, you will note, stealth is off, its thermal sink is down, and it's now discharging its drive core. All perfectly Little Red Riding Hood, except the crew's at battle stations and the nukes are online. I'm beginning to see some Shepard magic here."

 _Pong_

"Spirits! _Two_ Reaper ships! Are you getting this, guys?"

TBS came alive.

" _Yeah. One capital_ _ship_ _, on its back below_ _a light dusting_ _of snow."_ (Shepard)

A 'light dusting' in this context was a few metres. Capital Reapers were two kilometres long. Nyrek activated the on-board HIRES and lidar imagers, began a visual scan.

" _They're Reaper corpses, I suspect. Live reapers would have_ _been up and after us or more likely our 'sick' cruiser."_ (The _Nairobi's_ captain).

" _Capital Reaper's five hundred klicks from Port Hanshan. I'm guessing it had just turned up when the crucible fired and the Pax relay overloaded."_ (Shepard)

"Concur. But the other one, our VI paints it as a destroyer, is outside Firebase White."

" _It's sprawled but upright, ye_ _s, so w_ _as on the ground already when the red flash came. There's something unidentifiable almost on top of Port Hanshan."_ (Lawson)

"We've got visual on that now. It's a tube, rather bigger than the destroyer… oh, this stinks."

" _Garrus?"_ (Lawson)

"Guys, I think it's a _collector_ ship."

Sharp intake of breath from Liara. _"_ _Actually that makes sense. They'd have been after the bio and AI tech_ _."_

Shepard, though, had focused on the obvious military issue. _"_ _There's no reason a collector ship would have suffered any worse than us from the Red Flash. By now they might have done some repairs._ _No reaction_ _to the ping_ _so far,_ _Garrus?_ _"_

"None… wait… _Peacemaker_ just got pinged. "

 _Rumble_

The Collectors had waited till his ship showed its hand, before scanning it. It wouldn't make that mistake again. It mustn't be given the opportunity to communicate.

"Do I take a shot?" _Peacemaker_ , as the point machine, had besides its usual armament a couple of human mini-nukes on very temporary mounts underwing. The airflow disruption not only made his ship hard to handle in-atmosphere; in space manoeuvres it wallowed like a hippo too. Garrus badly wanted to get rid of them. Shepard didn't.

" _Not directly, Garrus, not with the fun stuff, not while it's close to Port Hanshan."_

"Suppose it doesn't come up? Won't we have to go inside with a ground team?"

" _Mikhailovich would already have two battalions en route, Shepard." (_ Nairobi _)_

" _Not yet. Wait. It's always better to let the customers come to the shop."_ (Shepard)

"Spirits. _I'm getting tau neutrino signatures. It's powering up._ "

" _We'll try and ablate its armor in-atmosphere then hit again before it leaves the magnetosphere. If it comes up after you, tell the VI to cut loose with the first underwing missile so the nuke goes off at some distance, say three kilometres from the docks, timed so it's just off the ground if you possibly can. Get at least eighty klicks distant _if you do a magnetosphere burst_!"_

"… okay. Done. The rate the neutrino emissions are building, it'll lift in forty seconds. Firing in ten… five. Four. Three. Two. One. MARK."

And a ridiculous _chemical rocket_ left from under wing, for a point four kilometres downwind of Port Hanshan. The shock would proceed directly up a valley to the Collectors. Shepard had warned him to keep it a low airburst, stay low initially, and apply clamps against an electromagnetic pulse.

 _Fireball_

Nyrek had seen composite 3D holos of modern Turian warheads going off. Those were fission-fusion layered devices, rather unwieldy, of around fifty kilotonnes TNT-equivalent – rather more than a dreadnought slug, but nowhere near a Reaper strike.

On the other hand, the atmosphere shocks especially in dusty or sandy battlefields, and the radiation, and the pressure overburden, had made them an invaluable addition to the turian arsenal during the Krogan rebellions. They could kill unprotected krogan infantry by the _billion_.

This was not an infantry target but a huge armored and shielded tube.

The ground was frozen snow, not sandy desert.

It didn't matter.

Yet Vakarian had inspected the warhead being mated to the rocket's fuselage. It amounted to a cone less than a metre across. The implosion element or "pit" was an ellipsoid, not a sphere, and fitted in the tip of the cone. It was only a small portion of the whole device. The human techs and armed guards would permit _no-one_ to see the remainder of the device, but Liara said it was almost certainly a lithium deuteride pill.

" _Spirits!_ "

Somehow the first fission caused implosion and fusion of that second pill even though it wasn't surrounded by the explosion. With that clue, the principle of how it was done had already been worked out by Liara and Javik, but the devil was in the details, and no details could be seen.

What Garrus _could_ see through the rear vid was a blinding fireball.

The last time he'd seen such a thing was recorded exiting Pragia in the shuttle, eight kilometres away and going like stink. That had been just a straight-up black-market thorium-derived U-233 fission device, of quarian origin, for civil engineering (moving mountains, creating industrial disposal pits, etc.). Such things were so easily scanned for that terrorists discounted their use, and the power was low (about 20kT, tops).

 _This_ was twenty kilometres off. It had to be in the multi-megatonne range. The only thing the hierarchy had ever designed like that for surface use was a multiple-warhead thing that had to be carried by _ship_ and was universally reckoned a waste of U-235.

" _Step on it, Nyrek!"_

* * *

 _Mach Stem_

What did for the armor, indirectly, was the reflected shock waves. These combined into a vertical shock front which did not suffer appreciably from inverse-square power diminution.

The Reapers and their minions were familiar with the rule that EMP from Compton recoil electrons was proportional to the square root of the gamma ray flux pushing those electrons – which meant the EMP scaled as the square root of kilotonne rating. Human nukes– these were multi- _megatonne_ devices– yielded a huge increase in electromagnetic pulse; EMP exceeded experience by two orders of magnitude.

The collector ship Overmind barely had time to register that the tiny aircraft approaching did not have an air-breathing engine before it exploded – a kilometre outside the point-defense range. It had left it almost too late but just managed to clamp its higher functions before the EMP hit.

Well, it wouldn't make _that_ mistake again.

But it was too late to prevent the tube caroming off a mountainside opposite the Port Hanshan docks. The kinetic barriers were briefly overwhelmed following several shorts of the ring main, and in that time the mountain strike fractured armor on one side which should have been able to shrug off a dreadnought hit. If it hadn't been for g-compensating mass effect fields, collector crew would have been pasted instead of human colonists.

As it was, the ships Collector-Captain suffered three broken appendages. If it had been capable of feeling anger and humiliation, it might have done something silly.

Instead, it did something logical. However unexpectedly powerful, this was still a chain-reaction weapon and therefore a known quantity. It got out of atmosphere fast. Now these things wouldn't be able to hurt it with atmospheric shock waves.

The Collector ship, still sparking down one side, climbed through the mesopause to orbit where it expected to spend minimal time doing running repairs. The fleeing frigate had flipped and returned, then fired another. Wasting time it could have used to flee, although it was going noticeably faster now. Not very sapient. All it would inflict in space was prompt radiation, subject to the inverse-square law. It instructed its point-defence subsystems to engage the missile at extreme range; around ten kilometres. It should be dead by five kilometres out. Plenty of time after that to engage the wounded cruiser which this speck was attempting to protect.

But the missile detonated at twelve kilometres.

The Overmind never stopped to consider the effect of Noveria's magnetosphere. No Collector or Reaper had ever had occasion to think about what such a large nuclear explosion in a strong planetary magnetic field might do.

As it turned out, it wouldn't make _that_ mistake again, either.

* * *

 _Next chapter: #48, "Overkill"_

* * *

Monday, July 27, 2015


	14. Overkill

Road to nowhere, Arc 4 of "Gone with the Sun"

Chapter 48 **Overkill**

* * *

 _What just happened?_

The QEC bubble in _Peacemaker_ went dark. That was one briefing of the Primarch which Garrus wouldn't forget. Slowly, he left the secure bubble and contemplated the bank-and-bell display in the war room. Nyrek entered the chamber.

"Who's flying?"

"Kozlo."

That was acceptable. _Peacemaker_ didn't have a lot to do until _Normandy_ and _Nairobi_ had finished emplacing remote-detonation Sakharov mines at each end of the comatose Collector ship. All the pilots-designate needed practice during slack time.

Garrus and Williams had been all for blowing the Collector dreadnought to Kingdom Come where it stood in orbit, but Shepard had said No. Actually he'd said "waste not, want not" but it amounted to the same thing, and Liara had agreed – if it were mined.

It was acceptable, given the… unexpected power of the _small_ warheads. Actually…

" _Equalizer_. Did the Alliance ever tell us the rating of a Sakharov mine?"

" _Three point five megatons, General."_ Garrus swallowed hard.

"What is the estimated power, given the recordings, of the missiles used to disable the Collector vessel?"

" _One point eight megatons, General."_

Bloody hell. Nearly two megatons in a frigate-launched air-to-air missile.

"It was Shanxi that did it, General."

Garrus spun around. His human engineer, Riley, was sitting in a chair behind him; she looked absorbed in the threat map depicted in the Bell. He would have to get used to aliens on a turian warship. Carefully, he asked: "So this is a new development, then?"

"No, sir. We have known for centuries the design tricks. We simply haven't used it since the late twentieth century."

"Why not?"

"For the same reasons you weren't motivated to go beyond _sloika-_ type layered thermonuclear devices at all, sir, except impractical Alarm Clock designs like the city-sized thing you buried in Tuchanka."

"There was no suitable target."

"Yes, sir. Cities are more efficiently obliterated with MIRV'd _two-_ stage devices, of around half a megaton per warhead. But after Shanxi, we _did_ have suitable targets."

"I _see_." And indeed, that did make sense. By then, Palaven had world government.

Wait a minute. "Come with me."

 _B_ _oom_

The QEC chamber now had Liara on primary and Shepard on secondary. Riley greeted him like an old friend, which come to think of it they might be – both were N7.

"Riley, would you go over that again with Shepard and Liara for me?" Which she did. Liara simply nodded. This was apparently well known. Shepard agreed:

"Right. Given the need to take out dreadnoughts at a distance and pack more power into a single nuclear hit, the Alliance miniaturized existing three-stage device designs within a single _beep_."

"I'm sorry Shepard, my autotranslator didn't get that and I don't think it was English."

"It's a German word. It means a retaining capsule which confines the radiation for long enough that there's a fusion reaction in the LiD – lithium deuteride. It converts to tritium and deuterium and fuses."

"Right. So you get a mostly fusion reaction." (Liara)

"Actually not quite, in the most powerful airborne twentieth century designs the casing for the LiD was depleted Uranium 238 which ignited when fusion got going. Most of the energy in a so-called fusion bomb of that era was actually from fission of the U-238."

"But that's not normally fissile at all!"

"Exactly. Big saving of fissile material. You can actually use depleted Uranium to make a bigger and _much_ dirtier bomb."

 _That_ sat like a depleted Uranium balloon on the discussion. Garrus was still frowning.

"How big did these get?"

"The most powerful was a three-stage Russian design, _Big Ivan_ , nearly thirty tonnes, barely deliverable and not a practical weapon." (Liara)

"Well, actually it could have been delivered by a B-36 quite handily, but the Russian aircraft were struggling. A Convair B-36 was called a _Peacemaker_." (Big Shepard grin)

"The Americans had another three-stage design about half that yield which they could and did manufacture in bulk. It was only four or five tonnes." (Liara)

" _How big was Big Ivan?"_

Liara looked testy. "One hundred megatons, design capacity."

" _Spirits._ Was it ever tested?"

"Mmmm… in effect yes, they substituted lead for the U-238 in the casing. Cut the capacity in half so all but three percent of the energy came from fusion, to get a cleaner bomb. The plane that dropped it barely escaped with its skin."

"The Americans sent a spy plane to watch which _didn't_ escape with its skin, the white antiflash paint blistered." (Shepard)

"A real groundpounder," said T'Soni as though it were the most natural thing in the world. Quarter Krogan, of course.

 _Boom Boom_

Liara did not seem to see a problem here. Garrus did.

"All right. Now, Shepard, stop me if I'm wrong. The ones I fired were tiny."

"Yes."

"But three-stage."

"Yes. And no U-238 tamper, so very clean. Mostly fusion."

"Is there any point to four stages? Five stages?"

"Um… yes. But actually there's no real upper limit to a three-stage design." (Riley)

"All you have to do is add Hydrogen Deuteride. Which is cheap. Plus some Lithium, less so,"– declared Shepard. _Now_ Liara looked like she'd got the point:

" _No upper limit?!"_ Asari had their blind spots.

Shepard sighed. "Look, suppose we took that mid-twentieth _Big Ivan_ design and stuck a couple of them on hard points under the _Nairobi's_ hull. What's the point defence range of a Reaper?

"About five kilometres, normally." (Garrus)

"The Russion 50 megaton test had a fireball eight kilometres wide. Expect eleven for the hundred-megaton version. If we set a _Big Ivan_ to detonate five kilometres from a capital Reaper like Harbinger, then never mind the EMP or the radiation, the _entire Reaper_ would be plasma." (Riley)

"And the _Nairobi_ would still have another shot left," muttered Liara.

"Actually it could probably carry six," observed Shepard, deadpan.

There was a short silence before Garrus put the obvious question: "Why didn't you use these on the Reapers?"

"Mikhailovich wanted to. But we preferred to keep this as a surprise. The Crucible was a better bet for extermination. And besides, most of the stockpile was in silos which the Reapers plastered over, first thing."

"Nuking your own cities wouldn't have worked, anyway." (Liara)

"There was that."

 _WABABOM_

"So this is why, after Shanxi, you were planning to stack your fleets against the hierarchy, which outnumbered you ten to one in dreadnoughts."

"Who said anything about dreadnoughts?"

"Well, how would you have got the bombs over Palaven?"

"Warships are expensive," said Riley. Shepard expanded on that:

"Mikhailovich's Dad had a plan involving cheap high-speed mass-produced VI-guided freighters packed with powerful thrusters. The whole inside would be one big bomb, or lots of escape pods with lots of less humongous ones."

"And if it looked like it would be intercepted?"

"It would go off anyway. Lots of miniature suns going off. He estimated fifteen thousand gigaton events in the skies over Palaven."

 _It gets better…_

There did not appear to be words adequate to describe the atmosphere. Liara looked physically ill. "Why didn't that happen?"

"Huerta vetoed it. It was going to a plenary vote when Tevos brought the cease-fire demand for _status quo ante bellum_. That was acceptable to Mikhailovich senior."

"So it was unanimous?"

"No. The Chinese wanted to keep going. But they lost the vote."

"I reckon it helped that the Council rep was a hot blue space chick."

"Shut up, Kozlo." (Riley, observing Liara's non-expression)

 _Sort of._

Shepard eventually signed off, but not before giving Liara a _see me_ look.

"… _Goddess_. And this species produced Chambers."

"It also produced Lawson," sighed Garrus.

"The father or the daughter?" (Kozlo)

"Yes."

Riley spoke up. "Not fair, Vakarian."

"All right, fine, the father, but I haven't the faintest doubt the daughter – "

"No, not her style. She'd look for something up close and personal, ideally something you do to yourself."

Garrus and Liara both filed that for future reference. Garrus, the 'up close and personal' bit. Liara, the 'something you do to yourself' bit.

"We're not insane, properly speaking…" Riley trailed off.

"But? Lee Riley, you're thinking of something. Tell me." (Liara)

"Ma'am, I hear you're the Shadow Broker."

"Lee. If Shepard tells me something, it's not for sale. You're N7 too. What you say is not for sale."

Riley was clearly considering this carefully.

"We've had time now to manufacture some new designs. There's a _five_ -stage device which fits inside an iron asteroid expanded to an iron bubble. Just saying."

There was another short silence. Then it was Liara's turn to ask the obvious question:

"How big?"

Riley's face had flushed bright red. She had got up and was leaving, but turned and answered: "Tunable, but not less than three hundred gigatonnes."

" _What would you use it on!?"_

"We're not sure. Piotr says, best to have it and not need it."

The door closed.

* * *

 _Next chapter: #49, "Winter warmth"_

* * *

Monday, July 26, 2015


	15. Winter warmth

Road to nowhere, Arc 4 of "Gone with the Sun"

Chapter 49 **Winter warmth  
**

* * *

 _The Iceman Cometh_

 _Nairobi_ was still behaving like a wounded bird. Just in case. But it was in synchronous orbit now, over Firebase White. The frigates – all including _Peacemaker_ no longer stealthed – trailed behind like ducklings, sending their shuttles for pre-mission briefings… excepting _Overlord_ , which docked directly.

The Captain noticed Shepard had brought more people this time. Non-regular personnel; three each from the asari and turian frigates, as well as three from Hackett's go-to mercenaries – Toombs, who he picked as former alliance, Zabaleta who from the uniform apparently still was, and a woman in a black environment suit.

"Okay. We have to look in Firebase White and Port Hanshan. The first is Alliance territory which ideally should be checked out by Alliance troops. The second is Port Hanshan, a very sensitive commercial site and we will similarly use the mercenary. Keep Council troops _out_ if at all possible."

"That may not be possible," observed the Captain.

"Quite right. If there's some emergency we will bring in what's needed. So I propose checking out Firebase White first, with non-Alliance forces in abeyance. That means _you_ will be the commander in the field, Ashley."

"I can call in Garrus or whoever? What am I looking for? "

"We will all be standing by. Call me or the _Nairobi_ , if I'm not available. Until that damned Collector ship showed itself I'd have said you're looking for survivors, but now…"

"We'll be lucky if we even find dogtags."

Liara spoke up. "Ash. Take a medical tech. You never know, you could need first aid or the sweeper swarm antidote."

"Yes, ma'am. But Shepard, Padok is seconded by Council, to the Alliance."

"That's OK, Ash, it's just soldiers which should be Alliance for the initial probe. Tell Wiks to record what he can, video logs say. Some evidence of what happened would be nice. Be quick about this, I want to move on to Port Hanshan as soon as possible afterwards."

"Move with dispatch, aye."

* * *

 _Cold comfort_

Garrus was a little concerned for Shepard's safety. Cortez was not piloting his shuttle. He had stayed as pilot and commander _pro tem_ of _Normandy_ , which retreated fifty kilometres, so was in the TBS link with _Nairobi_ and the other frigates.

The mission camera links were good. Per instructions, Ashley had borrowed _Overlord_ 's spiffy new M44 Hammerhead which _Normandy_ dropped on to the Firebase's empty fighter pad:

" _Touchdown. No_ _reaction from the collapsed destroyer, no_ _hostiles, no friendlies just yet. Waiting thirty seconds."_ (The destroyer was sprawled a kilometre down the valley.)

With her were Copeland and Wiks. The Firebase seemed deserted, but lights were on.

" _Reactor's OK. Let's boogie. Sorry, Wiks, I mean time's up. I mean, let's get out of the tank and check out the_ _base_ _._ _Shepard, green light for shuttle."_

On the rear of the pad settled _Normandy's_ own shuttle with Shepard inside. It had followed the mothership down. ( _"I need to see what's happening on the ground."_ )

When Miranda heard the plan, she threw an icy tantrum. The upshot: Miranda piloted, Shepard manned the co-pilot seat and comm board, Hadley lay prone on the floor cradling a Black Widow sniper rifle, and Goldstein – in combat armour – stood by the cyclic auto-cannon while a platoon of _Normandy's_ Marines stormed out the door.

Three marines immediately occupied the empty Hammerhead. It would provide heavy cover in the event of horrible surprises. Miranda looked over at Hadley and Goldstein.

" _None of you are to venture out of the shuttle, hear me? Any trouble, we pick up who we can and take off."_

Goldstein noted that Shepard apparently could live with that – in fact he'd probably advised it. Padok and Williams were carrying helmet cams. Only Ashley was carrying assault weapons; but Copeland was carrying a turret intended to provide cover in case of a hasty retreat.

" _There's power, so we head straight in the door. Corp, take the top level, I'll do the bottom."_

She took the first door at a run. _"Copeland,_ _grab_ _the_ _logs and scan for clues. No remains yet."_ The corporal taking the top door likewise reported no traces of life on that level. The familiar security console was not active. _"_ _There's only layer-1 alive."_

Copeland reported back. _"Ma'am, the last entry in_ _non-volatile storage for_ _the_ _perimeter audio_ _logs_ _has_ _the commanding officer talking to his 2IC as the destroyer lands and begins up the valley. Then it just cuts off mid-sentence."_

Ashley had made another discovery: _"The guns have been manually powered down. I'm guessing they were playing possum. The flash got the destroyer BUT it also did for layer-2 and layer-3 circuits."_ Then she headed for the elevator up the stairs.

" _LC, I think you're right, the last thing I hear is something about going to the flight deck."_

That meant likely starvation or hypothermia deaths. _"I'm on my way. Corp, with me."_ It took some minutes even with the corporal engineer to reset the slow-blows, re-enable layer-2 and bring up the admin and security consoles' attomechanical interfaces. Layer-3 remained u/s.

Ash asked, _"Did Hackett send_ _only_ _grunts here?"_ TBS cracked with Shepard's voice:

" _I think so._ _A_ _fter he took the place when we disabled the main guns, he just left task force troops, regularly supplied, but_ _few_ _specialists."_

" _Starvation_ _and_ _cold. That's a terrible way to go for a soldier._ _For anyone._ _"_

Copeland came back on line. _"Captain, I've fast-reversed five entries now. The_ _destroyer_ _appeared_ _overhead, and_ _the flight commander ordered_ _eight_ _troops in_ _a_ _shuttle off to Port Hanshan."_

Shepard interrupted: "W _as that to help the civilians there or to avoid the destroyer coming down?"_

" _It's not clear, sir, but the rearguard's two at most, in the advanced fighter bay."_

Ash's helmet cam showed the elevator doors open to a dark space, a series of clicks and a view of her assault rifle at flashlight readiness. _"Nothing on motion sensors,_ _no heat traces._ _"_ Cortez, sitting some distance off in the _Normandy_ , came online:

" _LC, that place must be shielded, I can see the layer-3 telltales are green in the fighter cockpits."_

The little squad began moving around the inside of the fighter bay, which had six of the cute and deadly machines, still in Cerberus colors, looking a little like souped-up Tridents.

" _Copeland, find the M-44 and get them to power up. Cortez, I want the Normandy to fly by, pick up the Hammerhead. We'll open the fighter bay doors and ferry these machines out to_ Nairobi _. She's got extra space in the hold now she's run through a year's supplies."_

" _Aye, aye, ma'am."_ Ashley's camera picked out two little clumps in the far corner by the ops console, surrounded by trash. _"Blast. Here they are."_ She approached closer.

"God in heaven, _they're in Cerberus uniform."_

 _F_ _rost kingdom_

Shepard's first thought was for Hackett's troops. _"Where's the Alliance garrison gone?"_ Ashley's answer wasn't comforting. _"Could have been obliterated by Cerberus."_

Miranda was less sure: "I don't see any hint of combat. Maybe the garrison cleared off to Port Hanshan the instant Reaper signatures appeared in orbit."

"Miranda, I know what you're thinking. But they'd be reduced to layer-1, like here."

"Synthetic Insights were there, John, they might have been able to patch an environment control system together. At least layer-2."

"But probably not in time to save anyone in the deep labs."

"Ori was in the hotel." _Oho._

Copeland supported the escape theory: _"I haven't had time to pick out the events_ _completely_ _, ma'am, but I've found a log from six hours before which has Cerberus troops arriving and the base is already deserted."_

" _Good. What do we do with the_ _se_ _bodies, Shepard?"_

"Get them to _Overlord's_ cold storage. Give them to Jana for autopsy. Cerberus or not, we should give them burial on Earth."

 _Home_ _Fire_ _s_

 _Pegasus_ and _Peacemaker_ had closed to scan Port Hanshan from low altitude, then orbit above. _Overlord_ and _Normandy's_ flight crews were busy helping _Nairobi_ get the Cerberus fighters into its hold, which meant re-packing a lot of _Nairobi's_ supplies. Other crew were frantically re-stowing the Hammerhead, shuttle, and small arms.

Back on _Overlord_ , Shepard felt surplus to requirements. At that point the shivering began. Even Shepard's teeth chattered, as though his body felt it could afford to collapse. Now Garrus and Liara were reporting heat blooms from the ventilation shafts. Something was generating heat down there. _I could use some of that_ , he said, retreating to the loft and his bed, curling up in the dark, thinking cold thoughts till sleep prevailed.

After 2300, he woke as Miranda softly padded into the loft, unpeeled her skinsuit, and took to bed. He was dozing off again when a new soft keening appeared.

 _Oh no._ Miranda crying.

After a minute, quietly he swung his legs off the medical bed. He might regret this, but he couldn't bear it any more. She turned as he got into her bed: "Shepard?"

"Shhh. Come here." He kissed her, and they twined together.

"Shep, I'm sorry, I just couldn't hold it in."

"I know. Hold me instead."

It had been a little cold. Now it wasn't.

* * *

\- _End (of Road to Nowhere)_ -

* * *

This world begins again at Arc 5: _"Somewhere over the Rainbow"_ \- by the same author (under s/11410426/1/)

* * *

Tuesday, July 28, 2015


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